When we initially sat down to write this piece, we were contemplating how to explore just what has been lost in the post-#MeToo years. We discussed the force and fury of the male backlash to the #MeToo movement, the actions that powerful men took to insulate themselves against accusation and professional harm. We talked about the ways that the legislature has been used as the arm of those powerful men to double down on control and compliance from women’s bodies. And then, we started talking about a law that made its way through the North Carolina state legislature.

As our country mourns with Asian and Pacific Islander American communities across the country, as we grieve with the families of slain Black and brown children, women, and men, and as we attempt to enact policies that attack the racism underlying this violence, we must also take time to define what a different society could look like for those most affected by this brutality. At the center of this work is an urgent need to reimagine the concepts of integration and coalition building.

Across the world, we’ve witnessed uprisings over a range of human injustices; in the United States, we have struggled to reconcile the legacy of race and racism in our own country. At the heart of this awakening is a deeper understanding about how the language we use and the history we teach either upholds or helps to undo the injustices in our society. Once we allow ourselves to examine the factors that distance us from the oppression and pain of the people around us — once we shed the barriers those words erect — we are freer. Language drives our behaviors, and it is an indication of what we value — both individually and collectively. 

If we have any hope of living up to the promise of this incredible moment of social upheaval, we must address the violence in schools with the same fervor we’re directing towards the violence in the streets.

You can see it in the weary, glazed-over looks of your friends’ children on Instagram. Or in the hilarious quotes parents post about homeschooling on Twitter. Children, too, are tired of sitting in the house each day looking at their siblings, learning from their parents and their disembodied electronic teachers, and being unable to see their friends.

You can see it in the weary, glazed-over looks of your friends’ children on Instagram. Or in the hilarious quotes parents post about homeschooling on Twitter. Children, too, are tired of sitting in the house each day looking at their siblings, learning from their parents and their disembodied electronic teachers, and being unable to see their friends.

In every part of our country where COVID-19 data is being recorded and disaggregated, racial disparities have emerged that look eerily similar to those at play in 1918.

As the world we thought we knew unravels around us, our place in that world — our privileges, our abilities, and our limitations — become abundantly clear. Without functioning schools, a viable health care system, or news and leadership we can trust, the cracks in our systems widen, revealing not only the dysfunction, but also, finally, allowing the light in.