Abstract
A disproportionate number of urban youth attend underresourced and segregated schools. While tenets of the American Dream are inculcated in urban youth, a dearth of educational resources is available to help realize this dream. This qualitative study explored the narratives of urban youth (N = 85), many of whom sought to be the exceptions, embracing higher education as a pathway to successful futures, yet few identified resources that would make access to higher education possible. The capital accrued in their communities allowed them to navigate their social environment; however, it was an insufficient bridge for future success in higher education. Furthermore, they espoused a belief in their own self-reliance as the one resource on which they could count on. Ironically, the youth also accepted “not making it” a result of their own shortcomings. We link findings to empowerment agents who would cultivate both bridging capital and critical consciousness among/for youth.
Introduction
Urban youth of color represent a disproportionate number of the adolescents living in communities with underresourced schools and who are the most disadvantaged by today’s current educational system (Green, 2015). More than 60 years ago, Brown v. Board of Education desegregated schools and identified that separating youth on the basis of race was inappropriate and emphasized messages of inferiority and superiority (McGee & Stovall, 2015; Zirkel, 2005). However, today, schools are still as segregated. For example, only 33% of high schools with predominately Black and Hispanic students offered high-level math and science courses, when compared with high schools with high White student enrollment (56%; U.S. Department of Education Office of Civil Rights, 2016). Despite the maintenance of educational segregation and the presence of apartheid schools (i.e., schools where the racial patterns are indistinguishable from schools pre-desegregation; Kozol, 2012), the spirit of the American Dream and equal opportunities for all are inculcated in youth. Premised on the idea that all can achieve success and prosperity, individual traits such as determination and hard work are the basis for which the dream of upward mobility is founded (Hill & Torres, 2010), leaving unexamined the disparities in educational opportunities.
These beliefs of exceptionality in the United States, as well as misguided federal policies promulgating educational inequality, contribute to the limited effectiveness in educational reform (Berliner, 2013; Taines, 2011; Zirkel, 2005). Yet, ironically, neoliberal educational policy is sold as the bedrock of the American Dream and this belief is commonly perpetuated by the media and by U.S. leaders (Baldridge, 2016). See, for example, this comment offered by former-President Barack Obama who stated,
[W]hatever the training may be, every American will need to get more than a high school diploma . . . dropping out of high school is no longer an option. It’s not just quitting on yourself, it’s quitting on your country-and this country needs and values the talents of every American. (As cited in Kirshner, 2015, p. 7)
Such statements dismiss structural inequality, that is, how the country “quits” on its urban youth via inequitable educational opportunities that continually disadvantage them. The espoused image solidifies the ethos of the American Dream, which remains unquestioned.
Youth in middle-class society have access to a multitude of social resources that teachers and other school staff value, or find useful, for future successes (Bourdieu, 1986, 1997; Patel, 2015). Yet, many of the formal and informal advantages, and resources, offered to middle-class adolescents’ remain invisible and often intangible to urban youth, who are caught in a web of oppressive systems (Forenza, Rogers, & Lardier, 2017; Kozol, 2012; Putnam, 2015). As a result, urban youth of color in underresourced communities are condemned to viewing themselves as solely responsible for “making it,” solidifying their perspectives of individual responsibility (i.e., bootstrapping; Berliner, 2013). There is a focus on the culpability of the urban youth themselves, opposed to repairing a broke educational system that is nested in larger arenas of inequality (Berliner, 2013). This blame game is coupled with educational reforms that focus on high stakes testing, “fixing” teacher education, and increasing segregation through charter schools or voucher systems (Warren, 2014).
This article takes up the argument that the lingering rhetoric of American exceptionality and bootstrapping is not only unrealistic, but also detrimental. Most recently, Glaude (2016) emphasized that urban communities are “opportunity deserts,” “that lack the resources and public institutions that give those who live there a chance to reach beyond their current lives” (p. 23). Glaude (2016) attributed this to both the absence of social networks that provide access to resources and heightened police presence. Moreover, urban youth of color, as well as their teachers, fail to visualize the forms of capital they possess as cultural wealth, when compared with that of middle-class, White youth (Yosso, 2005).
Through the voices of adolescents from an urban community, we illustrate that meritocratic narratives are ever present. In their discourse, youth espoused prevalent U.S. ideologies of self-reliance and exceptionalism, using these as the blueprint for their own future thinking and expectations. At the same time, located within a particular slice of geography that required skillful navigation just to survive, youth strategies of self-reliance did not appear to refer to, or cultivate, other forms of bridging capital that might support their success beyond their neighborhoods. While the youth were resourceful, astute readers of their environment, other linkages beyond their own efforts and skills are necessary for their future success. In light of the need for a broader range of social bridges, we draw on Stanton-Salazar’s (2011) notions of empowerment–social capital and empowerment agents. We make the case that these are potential means of fostering important bridging relationships for youth, as well as potentially cultivating critical consciousness.
The American Dream and the Creation of the Socially Isolated
As the most recent U.S. election exposed, whole groups of Americans feel left behind or shut out of the middle-class lifestyle “promised” to them in the American Dream. Despite this lived reality, there is a persistent American belief that if an individual is poor or jobless, it is somehow due to their own shortcomings and inadequacies (Wilson, 1974/2012; Young, 2004). This chiefly comes into play when considering urban communities of color, which are socially isolated from the individuals and institutions that represent mainstream society (Young, 2004). This isolation serves at least two purposes: It creates difficulties in accessing the necessary social networks to propel inner-city community members toward successful futures and opportunities that mainstream U.S. society has access to more readily (Quane & Wilson, 2012; Young, 2004). And, beyond this, isolation renders the urban poor as “other” and undermines any larger systemic critique, sustaining a sense of permanency for urban people of color in this isolated position (Baldridge, 2016). The forms of capital deemed valuable for social movement are part of a larger legacy of racism in the U.S., and therefore continue to isolate and create an apartheid, based on race and class, between the resources available to youth of color and those in White, middle-class communities and educational systems.
In a recent analysis of U.S. census data, Patten and Krogstad (2015) noted that while there has been some slight improvement in child poverty rates with the recovering economy, Black and Hispanic youth fared poorly when compared with White and Asian American teens in terms of recovery. For example, Berliner (2013) noted that the U.S. has one of the largest income gaps between wealthy and poor citizens, which has contributed to many of the social problems urban youth face, including education. Furthermore, Black youth are the most likely to live in poverty at a rate of about 38% (Patten & Krogstad, 2015), while Hispanic teens (36.9%), though faring slightly better, also continue to lag behind White youth (13.7%) and the total U.S. population of adolescents (23.0%; Murphey, Guzman, & Torres, 2014). In addition, only 9% of the low-income youth obtain college degrees (Berliner, 2013). Without additional forms of capital and the networks to access it, Wilson (1974/2012) asserted, “consignment to inner-city schools helps to guarantee the future economic subordinancy of minority students” (p. 163).
Yet, as Berliner (2013) observed, politicians and Americans in general embrace narratives where the exceptions are the rule:
. . . the wonderful but occasional story of a child’s rise from poverty to success and riches . . . the heroic, remarkable, but occasional impact of a teacher or a school on a child. These stories of triumph by individuals who were born poor, or success by educators who changed the lives of their students are widely believed narratives about our land and people . . . But in fact, these are simply myths that help us feel good to be American. (p. 1)
These hegemonic narratives of exceptionality and bootstrapping are the stories we love to tell ourselves and are celebrated in the press, on television, and in the movies. These narratives create the landscape by which the youth in this study come to embrace them as well.
Literature Review and Conceptual Framing
Meritocracy
Meritocracy is steeped in the values of the American Dream (Meroe, 2014). To make sense of this American Dream and educational inequality, we define and examine meritocracy and how these beliefs further isolate and, in many ways, create an apartheid in American education. Michael Young in his satirical fictional tale argued that meritocracy would preserve and increase inequalities (Young, 1958). Meritocracy has been defined as: (a) individuals’ abilities to succeed on the basis of their individual aptitudes and actions; (b) success is based on moral virtue; and (c) equal opportunity applies to all regardless of origin or social identity (Hochschild, 1995). Hence, it is believed that individuals earn rewards based on their abilities and efforts, solidifying the ideals of individuality, which are firmly rooted in American Democracy and the American Dream (Knight, Roegman, & Edstrom, 2016). All of this is premised on the idea that the U.S. offers an open system for economic and social mobility, despite evidence indicating that few manage this type of movement (Hill & Torres, 2010).
Today, meritocracy is the narrative that justifies social inequality, allowing a select few to be “above the rule,” with some defining it as an adapted aristocracy (Meroe, 2014; Patel, 2015). This social system places emphasis on individual abilities and efforts, providing incentives to foster those qualities that support the narrative espoused by the larger society (Meroe, 2014; Wiederkehr, Bonnot, Krauth-Gruber, & Darnon, 2015). These merit-based qualities are manifested as biological, such as “I.Q.,” or through additional cultural resources, such as wealth (Meroe, 2014). Those who fail to meet these standards, or to have access to the necessary cultural resources, are relegated to social Darwinistic perspectives (Meroe, 2014).
In today’s America, meritocracy, merit, and individual achievement are supported through achievement tests or a testocratic merit (Guinier, 2016), conferring educational opportunities to a select few (Berliner, 2013). Based in meritocratic ideologies, achievement testing provides all, regardless of gender, class, culture, or social position, an equal chance of becoming successful because of hard work and merit (Au, 2013; Guinier, 2016). By extension, failing is believed to be due to a lack of ability or deficits (Alon & Tienda, 2007). As Wiederkehr and colleagues (2015) stated, “because of the high stakes associated with school success and failure in determining one’s future, the perceived fairness of society directly depends on the perceived fairness of the school system” (p.2). Because of meritocracy and testocratic merit, educational achievement testing is validated, supported, and circulated bipartisanly (Au, 2013; Guinier, 2016; Wiederkehr et al., 2015). The belief in such policies and meritocracy supports the American belief that education is equal for all (Au, 2013; Kirshner, Hipolito-Delgado, & Zion, 2015), although only some “select” persons have access to the necessary resources (Patel, 2015).
The distortion of education for youth of color
Equity in education is one of the main tenants of meritocracy (Hochschild, 1995). As a consequence, meritocracy hides many of the structural inequalities under, as stated, “the guise of ‘naturally’ occurring aptitude” (Au, 2013, p. 13). However, no school is the same and the U.S. social institutions are marked by drastic differences in the quality and infrastructure (Mijs, 2016). Despite the integration and educational equality movements of the 1960s, public schools remain distinctly different experiences for minority groups, when compared with the majority (Zirkel, 2005). The most recent analyses from the U.S. Department of Education Office of Civil Rights (2016) Data Collection documents the continuing wide disparities in experiences and opportunities across the nation’s public schools. These data indicate that while in general high school graduation rates are up, inequities across schools differentially position students for access and success in education beyond high school. For instance, Black and Hispanic youth’s opportunities for, and representation in, Advanced Placement courses remains low, and these youth are likely to attend schools where over 20% of the teachers do not meet licensure requirements.
Engulfed in an ethos of meritocracy, youth are unlikely to question educational disparities and those disadvantages that hinder their further educational success beyond high school (Berliner, 2013). The default framing is if these youth fail, it is not because of failures in the educational system but, rather, because of their own individual failures. Youth are not offered an alternative explanation through which to view their school experiences and they too internalize this script of individualized failure. Yet, there is evidence that when exposed to alternative analyses, youth working with adult allies have effectively reframed these “individual” failures and have collectively organized around issues of school “pushouts” and zero tolerance (Youth United for Change, 2011). Community and youth organizing often focus on educational reforms (Warren, 2014), demonstrating a passionate interest on the part of youth to influence their educational experiences and contexts when these issues are reframed as collective and justice issues.
Without exposure to this reframing of educational failure, urban youth are simultaneously placed at an educational disadvantage via systemic inequities, while also internalizing the dominant discourse that education is the pathway to improving life circumstances (Newman, Johnston, & Lown, 2015). The significance of this belief in the educational pathway to success remains intact despite the evidence that a large proportion of urban youth of color are unlikely to graduate from high school and attend college (Berliner, 2013). They are in essence, with rare exceptions, confined to subordinancy, isolation, and poor economic futures.
Social Capital
Social capital has been defined as how individual’s access, use, and acquire a range of resources, which are developed through social interactions that facilitate beneficial outcomes (Bourdieu, 1997; Lin, Cook, & Burt, 2001). Two sets of resources have been postulated to assist individuals in society and within social institutions: (1) material resources, such as income and wealth; and (2) cultural resources, such as knowledge, cultural connectedness, and skills (Lin et al., 2001). Cultural resources have been identified to increase individual capacity, connection to one’s community and culture, and access to high-quality educational institutions and teachers (Carolan & Lardier, 2017; Farkas, Sheehan, Grobe, & Shuan, 1990) and reduce the probability of engaging in negative outcome behaviors (Stanton-Salazar, 2011, 2016). Nonparental mentors or empowerment agents, social supports, and cohesive families provide valuable cultural resources that increase the probability for success and achieving positive educational futures (Stanton-Salazar, 2011, 2016).
Social class and the construction and reconstruction of class boundaries are generated and sustained through cultural, social, and other forms of symbolic capital (Bourdieu, 1997). We observe the development and maintenance of capital among youth living in communities with more sociocultural resources, who are likely to benefit as a result of access to higher quality teachers, peer groups within a similar social standing, high parental social closure, and increased funding (Carolan & Lardier, 2017; Lareau & Weininger, 2008). High-status youth who thrive within these systems are unlikely to question their social location, nor their privilege of having access to sociocultural resources (Au, 2013; Berliner, 2013). However, adolescents from low-income minority families are less likely to have access to the necessary capital to propel them toward positive futures (France, Bottrell, & Haddon, 2013).
Urban youth’s limits to social capital
Better-educated Americans tend to have wider and deeper social networks, which are valuable for social mobility and educational advancement (Putnam, 2015). These financially stable parents expose their children to organized activities that provide opportunities to form ties with professionals and other adults (Putnam, 2015). One explanation as to why it may be easier for better resourced families to do this is that economically disadvantaged communities have a limited number of organizations and resources available to inner-city youth outside of school (Putnam, 2015). As a result, parents in economically resourced communities are able to mobilize a variety of capital for their children that enable them to gain access to other adults (e.g., teachers, coaches) and advantages in multiple social systems (France et al., 2013). In contrast, those less educated have more “redundant” social networks (i.e., their friends and family tend to know the same people they do), so the reach of their possible networking is limited (Putnam, 2015). This translates into urban youth having limited access to broad social networks and resources to propel them toward positive educational futures (Berliner, 2013; Stanton-Salazar, 2011).
“[S]ocial capital theory suggests that building relationships between and among people creates the basis for active participation in community and school life . . .” (Warren, Hong, Rubin, & Uy, 2009, p. 2209). These relationships take two forms: (a) bonding ties, which are those among people like each other; and (b) bridging ties, which are those across important lines of difference (Putnam, 2007). People who lack other resources may need to create bonding social capital among themselves before they can bridge to those of higher status by class and/or race (Warren et al., 2009). These bridging relationships can include what Stanton-Salazar (2011) described as institutional agents or nonkin, high-status agents occupying relatively high positions in the stratification system. These agents provide key forms of social and institutional support, and act directly to transmit/negotiate valued societal-resources on behalf of youth who otherwise would not have access.
Urban youth’s access to capital and resources
Critical social capital emphasizes that accessing social resources occur through bridging relationships (Ginwright, 2007). However, this apartheid in access to capital between middle- and upper-class youth, and urban adolescents, has solidified class-based segregation in the United States (Putnam, 2015). Therefore, urban and working-class adolescents must “know the game” to succeed beyond their current life circumstances (France et al., 2013). To learn these “rules,” and navigate their social terrain, adolescents of color tend to internalize symbolic and societal cues (Wagner & McLaughlin, 2015), which often interpret into an individualized view (i.e., bootstrapping) of success and educational attainment (Berliner, 2013; Knight et al., 2016). Hence, the isolation urban youth experience creates a barrier that denies them the “capacity to interpret that which lies beyond their social milieu” (Young, 2004, p. 194), and also the chance for upward mobility (Putnam, 2015). This isolation also relegates these young people toward believing that the capital they possess is deficient (Yosso, 2005).
Urban youth of color must, therefore, rely on specific bridging relationships, such as institutional agents (e.g., teachers, counselors, coaches), to create and maintain access to resources that will propel them toward futures deemed crucial to “making it,” and succeeding in the United States (Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Yet, as Stanton-Salazar (2011) pointed out, “differences in ethnicity, race, gender, social class, and cultural perspectives and values become obstacles to institutional supports” (p. 1088) and those who would invest time and resources that propel youth toward successful futures. While Stanton-Salazar (2011) noted that low-income youth of color are particularly disadvantaged in access to bridging relationships, some encouraging lines of research have documented the positive role that community-based organizations (Warren et al., 2009) and other supportive intermediary relationships can play in this regard (e.g., pastors or priests; Mitra, 2009).
To summarize, in Western society, social capital serves as a mechanism of privilege that is embedded in structural and social inequalities that emphasize individual merit (Bourdieu, 1997). The transference of social and cultural capital is, however, contingent on youth meeting and maintaining sociocultural elements specific to the dominant group (i.e., White, upper-middle-class males) that teachers and others in power recognize as familiar and valuable (Bourdieu, 1997; DiMaggio, 1982; Stanton-Salazar, 2011). These sociocultural elements may include the presence of financial resources, communication skills teachers find acceptable (e.g., nonslang vocabulary, English as one’s primary spoken language), individual motivation opposed to collectivism, and parents who are actively present opposed to working-class parents who may have multiple jobs (Garcia & Guerra, 2004; Yosso, 2005). However, the kinds of social capital that urban youth bring and utilize often goes unrecognized (Yosso, 2005). In return, these same youth do not see the strands of social capital supporting more affluent youth, nor recognize narratives of self-reliance for the romanticized renderings of individualism and meritocracy that they are. If they do recognize these strands of capital they may be unsure how to access them. As a result, they imagine themselves as the exceptions to the rule, those who will succeed in pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps.
Method
Research Setting
The context for this study is a densely populated urban community located in the northeastern United States that is designated one of the third largest cities in its state (U.S. Census Bureau, 2015). Historically an industrial hub, this city, like most industrial cities in the U.S., is a community that has been subjected to a fate of high poverty and its concomitant social problems, such as unemployment, population density, poorly designed city-wide policies, discrimination, and disenfranchisement. This community is racially and ethnically diverse, with more than 80% of the residents identifying as either Black or Hispanic, and nearly one third being foreign born citizens (U.S. Census Bureau, 2015). A significant proportion of the residents (30%) also live below the poverty line, with an average income of $33,964 (U.S. Census Bureau, 2015). Beyond the societal ills plaguing this city, there are also significant educational challenges that the youth in this community must navigate.
During the 2012-2013 school year, this city had one of the highest dropout rates in the state, accounting for more than half of the 810 dropouts in the county in which it is located. Nearly half (48%) of the students in this district ranked below proficiency in language arts, with even lower proficiency in mathematics (68%). Based on recent school level data acquired from the state, only 9.8% of youth graduating from high schools within this community received a college degree in 2014, far below national averages (59%) during this time (Kena et al., 2014). As with many urban communities, the school district has turned to school choice and instituted an academy structure within each of the high schools; that is, each high school has specific “academies,” such as the School of Architecture and Construction, School of Business Technology, and STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) programs. Each of these schools has separate graduation rates and grade point averages (GPAs). In essence, this district has created a meritocratic structure, as students with certain GPAs are ‘allowed’ in specific programs, a form of tracking that disadvantages other students.
Researchers’ Position
As part of a larger federal grant initiative, we engaged with many of these youth throughout the summer and in multiple capacities, whether educator, mentor, or advocate. As doctoral students and faculty, we come from privileged locations within society. Though some of us come from diverse cultural and ethnic backgrounds, and can begin to identify, and relate with intersectional perspectives of race and gender, we are not at all fully aware of the daily issues and experiences that urban youth participants from this community experience. To develop a rapport with these youth, we divided focus groups among males and females, with interviewers being of the same gender. In addition, doctoral students (ages 27-30 years) and master’s level students (ages 23-25 years) conducted these focus groups. Spending time with these same adolescents in their summer camp social spaces also helped build positive and successful relationships. We also began many of these groups casually and informally, which helped dissipate any unease associated with the discussion.
Research Sample
This study was part of a larger federally funded grant initiative that focused on preventing drug and alcohol use among urban adolescents through environmental and community-based strategies (e.g., policy change and social marketing campaign). The sample of youth (N = 85) consisted of Black and Hispanic adolescents, between the ages of 10 and 18 years. This sample was largely female (n = 64) and Black adolescents (n = 60). Students were sampled through convenience methods from six summer programs throughout the target city.
Data Gathering and Analysis
Students were engaged in 11 focus groups that lasted 60 to 90 minutes each. These were conducted at each of the summer programs in private classrooms, separate from those teens and counselors who were not part of the study, providing youth confidentiality. Males and females were engaged separately and paired with an interviewer of the same sex. Using five semistructured interview questions, focus groups probed for a sense of supportive structures within their community as identified by the youth. As per institutional review board (IRB) approval and written parental consent and student assent, focus groups were recorded and then transcribed verbatim. In addition, notes were kept by each interviewer to refer back to for tacit and demographic information (e.g., location youth lived in, type of program and location of program, and interactions during group).
Analyses utilized a constant comparison approach initially, while also aiming to recognize the relationship between structural inequalities and social categories, allowing for a more nuanced understanding of youth’s meaning making of their social locations. The basic defining feature of constant comparative approaches is that “while coding an indicator for a concept, one compares that indicator with previous indicators that have been coded in the same way” (LaRossa, 2005, p. 841). Three research team members engaged in analysis. Electronic memos and personal notes were maintained throughout the analysis process, which is consistent with engaging in constant comparative methodology (LaRossa, 2005). The first analyst was a doctoral student researcher who was affiliated with the grant initiative. Open-coding was initially used to identify themes inductively. As we analyzed these data, additional themes/concepts, beyond those focusing on drug and alcohol use prevention, were recognized, such as educational attainment and self-reliance. These concepts, and others, were used to flesh out additional indicators based in social capital theory and meritocracy. Research team members also exchanged memos and notes throughout the process, and met as a group to discuss findings and maintain an audit trail throughout the analysis process. Quotes used throughout article are pulled from focus group interview transcriptions. These quotes are representative of multiple quotes that we compiled into a single theme.
Findings
Emergent themes are explored below. Although youth described an array of supportive structures within their social world, they also provided detailed narratives regarding U.S. ideologies of self-reliance and exceptionalism, which they used to guide them in their own future planning and expectations. Located within a particular neighborhood that required skillful navigation to survive, youth strategies of self-reliance did not appear to be linked to bonding or bridging capital that could provide them with additional forms of sociocultural resources or success beyond their neighborhoods. We also, through our analysis, listened for representations of how, or from whom, youth learned to “read their worlds.” We recognized two overarching themes from our analysis: (a) limits of community capital and (b) living the contradictions of exceptionality. The presence of these themes draws attention to the strength of meritocratic narratives and the ways these narratives inform the possible futures youth see for themselves in this geographical space and perhaps similar geographic locations.
Limits of Community Capital
Communities potentially have untapped funds of knowledge and capital, which adolescents, if provided access, can engage (Epstein & Sanders, 2000). Should young people be afforded access to community connections and capital, it would provide them with what Lin et al. (2001) described as social credentials. These social credentials would in turn offer adolescents accessibility to additional resources (Lin et al., 2001). However, as Bourdieu (1997) and others in more recent discussions have observed (e.g., Berliner, 2013; Kirshner et al., 2015; Putnam, 2015; Stanton-Salazar, 2011, 2016), underserved youth of color are often limited in their access to capital that the dominant class actively produces, thus solidifying their current social status. Youth in this study were not necessarily aware of the limits to their community capital; they drew daily on forms of capital that enabled them to “read” the immediate world of their neighborhoods and survive and even thrive within it. This form of capital, however, serves a limited function in terms of pursuing educational futures that would advance them in dominant society (Yosso, 2005).
Youth were adept at recognizing and negotiating neighborhood contexts that they themselves considered potentially dangerous and threatening. As one Black female stated,
You go down the hill, you get called ‘the up’ because you’re not from down here or whatever. If you go up the hill from down the hill, you’ll be called ‘an up’ too, they’ll be wantin to fight, and all that stuff. They have riots because of that. If you come down to our area, they wanna fight, they wanna kill each other, gangs and stuff.
This quote above exemplifies the rules of the community, as “up the hill-down the hill” displays specific areas or “turf” within the community that youth have to carefully navigate. As another adolescent Hispanic male said, “People have told me, ‘You walk through it. Just keep your head down. You don’t see nothing. You don’t hear nothin’. You just keep on walkin.’” The youth were articulate about how to keep safe, how to remain alive, while juxtaposing these skills with a sense of fatalism: that sometimes things just happen, that people are at the wrong place at the wrong time. One Black teenage male expressed,
Seeing people getting shot over these things. I don’t want to go down like that, so I’m just gonna stay out of being in any sort of situation that would put me in danger. That’s why I would stay away.
This sense of fatalism was, ironically, one of the few times we heard youth give a nod to forces other than individual responsibility, acknowledging societal and social contexts at play.
While recognizing and articulating the “rules” of their neighborhoods and taking some pride in skillfully navigating them, this expertise was contextually bound. Their slice of even their city was small—a neighborhood or ward. The skills and energy necessary to navigate their day-to-day lives were not seen as possible building blocks beyond surviving. In other words, the expertise and capital accrued to navigate their current contexts were sources of pride and were essential, but youth did not see these as potentially helpful in creating lives for themselves beyond surviving. While they valued their skills as a form of self-reliance, we could not identify any scaffolding of their current skill bank to possibilities for the future other than cultivating a sense of self-reliance and survival. We place this side-by-side with societal narratives that emphasize the development and maintenance of capital by/for White, middle-class society that more seamlessly serves future, in this case, educational goals (Baldridge, 2016).
Their neighborhood capital is exceptionally important to youth in their local contexts, but the value of this survival currency drops as youth navigate communities or institutions, such as those in higher education, where physical danger is not the overriding concern. These youth are embedded within social networks that may not provide access to the cultural resources meant to carry them forward toward their imagined futures. As a result, these youth begin to see little opportunity within their current community, resulting in a narrative of “no hope” and a drive to leave. Moreover, these futures, as will be discussed below, are tied to pursuing further education beyond what was offered in their local communities.
“There is no hope for the city”: Getting out to get on with life
Throughout the focus groups, youth were engaged in discussions that centered on uncovering the barriers that hindered successful futures. Although asked initially about the mechanisms they felt could prevent substance use in their city or neighborhood, what quickly became apparent was that this question stymied them, in part because it was hard for the youth to imagine improving any facet of their immediate surroundings. They were unable to identify or visualize any sense of “hope” for their city. Beyond this, they were acutely aware that community leadership, including several former elected officials, was well known for corruption. There was no sense of expectancy that anything would be attempted much less carried out:
I’m just saying, there is no change in [city] . . . sooo many people died . . . [another mayor] come in he left office and he was taking all that money from the city. . . . People don’t think there’s hope in this city and they’re not gonna do anything. (Black female, age 14)
As youth in this study continued to reflect on their communities and then thought toward the future, they most often concluded that they had to get out, move to communities that would offer them more opportunities. This was articulated by a 15-year-old Black female, “I’m gonna make it out this place so . . . I don’t really know what the outcome will be once I get out of here but . . .” Concluding that staying in place was a dead-end, youth looked to life beyond the confines of their city, as a means of creating a life different from the ones they saw around them. Frequently, the idea of moving out of the city was coupled with a goal of pursuing higher education, and that by going to college they would join a new community that had more to offer than the one they were leaving behind.
Living the Contradictions of Exceptionality
Having concluded that any change for the better in their city was beyond their imagining, the youth turned their thoughts toward envisioning their own futures. Believing that their community had no real resources to offer them, the only pathway the youth could imagine involved being the exception to the rule, the one that “got out.” This depended on them being resourceful, essentially being able to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. Below we develop two subthemes that speak to the contradictions of this exceptionality: youth acceptance of “individual responsibility” and youth espousal of “education as the pathway to success.”
Youth acceptance of individual responsibility
In addition to their assessment that their communities had little to offer them, when the lens was moved closer to their own lives and who they might draw on as they thought about their futures, particularly in relation to their proposed goals of pursuing higher education, youth were hard pressed to describe relationships that might help them in this regard. While they had supportive relationships or role models, particularly their mothers or their friends, these supports were only occasionally linked to their vision of a future beyond what they routinely saw in the neighborhood. However, these role models did exist, and in naming them as their examples, the idea that there were clearly exceptions was reinforced in the visions of the youth. For example,
Because she’s [Mom] so strong, and it’s hard . . . she’s tough. I just look at her like she’s really my inspiration. She just graduated college. She’s going to college again, and it’s just like everything she do, I wanna do. I don’t tell her, but I, deep down inside, think she knows. Every time I look at her, it’s like she brings a smile to my face because she helps me push to be better.
Occasionally youth named friends as positive or protective influences, making it easier to keep to their goals, as well as stay away from drugs and alcohol. In reflecting on how youth were role models for each other, one Black female offered the following observation:
They basically have positive friends and they got a positive motivation like, “Oh I’m not gonna do this cuz I know that I wanna do this in life and I wanna play sports and I wanna do this and that.” Some kids are positive in a way.
At times youth referred to “anti-heroes” of sorts—persons they knew whom they did not want to be like—as a reference point to remind them that they wanted a different direction for their own lives. In a group of males, one Hispanic teen stated,
There’s actually people that’s using that’s actually trying to get the kids not to use by telling them, “You don’t want to be like me.” . . . One day I was walking through it and this guy was like—he was—I don’t know if he was usin’ or what but he [said] “Don’t use drugs.” He was like, “It’s not good.” He was like, “When I was little about your age . . . I got into it. It’s hard to get out.” It impacted me more because I’m like here’s this guy that did drugs telling me not to do drugs.
In another group of males, one Hispanic teen stated,
I had a family member that did use and I see how hard it was for her to go to rehab. I said I never wanted to be like her . . . I was feeling sad that she had to go through the whole experience.
Through many of these groups, youth articulated that these direct and indirect experiences motivated them educationally, as one Black female emphasized, it was “important to graduate high school . . . and not to be on the street.”
Because their plans most often involved going on to college, we listened carefully for links to teachers or other school personnel. They described limited bonds to educators. From their point of view, “teachers just want to get a check,” and “they [teachers] are not too encouraging.” Just as they could articulate the rules for keeping safe in their neighborhoods, they detailed how their peers could easily leave during the school day, slipping in and out of the building without apparent detection. This was firmly voiced by a 16-year-old Hispanic female, “schools don’t work . . . You can always skip classes at any school.” Another 15-year-old Black participant described his experience about how easy accessing and using drugs is within school: “At my school, weed can be found mostly anywhere. Like, in the middle of classes, kids, during lunch, before lunch, will leave the school to smoke it, and they come back.”
Overall, our read of the data indicated that for many of the youth, a thin layer of support buoyed their efforts to stay on a positive track for themselves. However, many of them were convinced that the only person they could rely on was himself or herself; that if they were to be successful, it was up to them, and that they would be the exceptions to what they saw around them: “I know I am going to college . . . because I know I’m getting out of here in a few more years.” When asked how they would get there, these teens espoused a sense of individual self-reliance, “Basically myself. Everybody else ain’t gonna do it.” In essence, they saw themselves as the exceptions to what they encountered daily in their own communities.
Education as a pathway to success
While in their own educational experiences, youth participants rarely described any ties or important relationships to their schools, this did not seem, to them, to contradict their intention to pursue higher education as the pathway “out”—of their communities, to success—or being the exception. This intention seemed to be crafted from a clarity that their own communities were not going to change or offer them any opportunities coupled with the hope that another community “would be better.” While taking steps toward a future, youth at the same time made clear that it was as much about their intention to leave this city behind. As one Black female participant elaborated:
If you move from outta here, it’s just different. It’s a new surrounding and it’s better. That gives you more hope and having more goals. You know you can get somewhere if you’re another place better than this.
For others, this decision to leave their home communities behind was crafted from warnings drawn from the neighborhood itself.
I hate it; but every time I’m in the car with my dad, my dad will take a ride . . . he’ll sit there and he’ll be like: “You see that? They sit on the corner. They gonna be there all your life. All you have to do is go to college and do what you have to do. Make a name for yourself. Do that.” (Black female participant)
It is worth noting that when asked “What gives you hope for your future?” youth initially seemed somewhat baffled by the question. It was difficult for them to respond, and only gradually did they begin to list ideas such as friends or “the movies. Sometimes movies, because sometimes they be talking about the same stuff we go through.” The only real chorus of response was around the refrain of moving away “cuz I can go somewhere better.”
Only a few could begin to sketch in a vision for this future beyond vague notions of leaving and going to college. For example, when asked what advice she might have for someone younger in the community, one girl offered:
Tell ’em that they could do better things with their life than tramp. Go to high school. Get your diploma. Maybe go away to college and see other stuff than [this city] . . . Go to a college. Go to a HBCU [Historically Black Colleges and Universities] and see how really Black people are really progressing in this world, doing in college and stuff like that. (Black female participant)
Nevertheless, the actual steps in pursuing the goal of college were left unarticulated and seemingly unknown. We heard little about supportive adult–youth relationships in their schools; although, youth wistfully imagined what it would be like “to have somebody to be behind me saying ‘You could do it. Don’t give up.’” Yet, at the same time, they expressed a skepticism toward offered help—“I don’t tell nobody in my school my business” preferring to go at it alone and rely on themselves:
. . . cause you gotta be strong minded . . . like advice don’t stick to me . . . like when I get in trouble in school and my guidance counselor tries to talk to me . . . that don’t work . . . it gotta be all in your mind. (Black female participant)
While freely observing, “there aren’t many Obamas,” the youth overwhelmingly embraced the notion that they each would be the exceptions. They espoused this despite many of them knowing others from their communities who were not able to move into the futures they saw for themselves. One Hispanic female participant reflected, “A long time ago something made them stop believing in themselves. Like their goals just vanished. Everything they dreamed for.”
They coupled their own sense of exceptionality with self-reliance, a conclusion that they had only themselves and their own determination to rely on. The data were replete with this narrative of it was “on them” to “set a goal” and make their futures happen—synonymous with going to college. For example, one Black female participant stated, “goals have to start within yourself. People can’t give you those goals.” Another male participant further narrated that
You’ve just gotta have—you’ve just gotta have a goal in mind, motivation, because if you’re just in high school and you’re just there, not doing anything, not getting good grades, and not wanting to pursue anything greater in life, then you know, you’re not gonna want to improve, honestly. (Black male participant)
They articulated an individual analysis of success, the narrative of exceptionality, and accepted the responsibility as individuals for their own success or failure. We found no clear alternative analysis on their part and no demands from the youth that their communities or society offers them more opportunities. They accepted that their fates rose and fell based on their own effort and self-determination, essentially espousing a familiar refrain from the American Dream.
Discussion
Education is widely embraced in the United States as playing a primary role in the bootstrapping ethos of meritocracy, with the youth in our study clearly absorbing that message. Whereas, middle- and upper-class adolescents rely on informal and formal networks that provide social and cultural capital resources, which increase the likelihood of a successful transition to higher education (Carolan & Lardier, 2017; Putnam, 2015), the youth here have lives void of these same resources to which their privileged counterparts have access. They generally seemed unaware that commonly it takes more than self-determination to successfully navigate these institutions of social mobility. Similar to “grit” (Duckworth & Yeager, 2015), bootstrapping or individual merit and self-reliance do not take into consideration the external, political, institutional, and social resources unavailable to urban youth of color, but overwhelmingly accessible to more privileged young adults (Anderson, Turner, Heath, & Payne, 2016).
While clearly the youth did not see themselves as powerless, we make the case that their embrace of exceptionality is a detrimental stance for them, albeit, one nurtured in the narrative of individual success and the American Dream. Anderson et al. (2016) argued that given the objective features of economic and social life for subordinate groups, a turn from these espoused models of individual success is warranted. They suggest providing opportunities for underserved groups to generate counternarratives that emphasize a structural understanding of society. Our data would indicate that while youth could readily “read the world” in which they navigated, they had no frame for meaning-making other than the dominant narrative of meritocracy. Because very few urban adolescents actually beat the odds and successfully pursue higher education (Berliner, 2013), this narrative then places the failure at the feet of the individual rather than with a society that has failed them.
Returning to Anderson et al.’s (2016) call for the cultivation of critical consciousness, the question becomes one of asking how this might be accomplished. Tocqueville (1969) and Du Bois (1899/1996) outlined the importance of not only organizations but also the individuals within these organizations that help persons of color facilitate social ties, community connection, mutual trust, and key lessons that allow them to engage in a democratic society. Social network theorists have emphasized the impact of structural holes between individuals, and the importance of strong ties in nonredundant networks, particularly for building trust that allow individuals to make changes and go beyond the status quo (Burt, 2009). In essence, for youth of color living in the circumstances described in our study, empowerment agents can help fill these structural holes and, in turn, provide authentic institutional support that not only restructure youth’s networks (Stanton-Salazar, 2011), but also enhance self-efficacy, develop critical consciousness, and propel them toward key development goals. In our most recent work, an extension of the research presented here, we have begun to document instances where youth are active agents for themselves with community power brokers (e.g., school boards, etc.). They are participants in an after-school program that prioritizes working toward critical consciousness and the development of counternarratives to exceptionality and self-reliance.
To move urban youth beyond their current life circumstances involves creating access and forming relationships that bridge social divisions (Christens, 2012). Empowerment agents are those persons that bridge social divisions, “go against the grain,” and empower adolescents to not only meet academic demands, but also navigate the developmental challenges in today’s society; cultivate a mind-set to be more critically aware of societal structures, practices, and policies; and help adolescents assume more leadership roles (Christens, 2012; Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Furthermore, empowerment agents provide access to resources that would otherwise be unavailable to urban youth, thus promoting constructive and practical change, as well as enhancing overall well-being (Christens, 2012; Stanton-Salazar, 2011). These empowerment agents also validate and help youth exert existing forms of capital, which enable them to transcend structural barriers that traditionally inhibit future success. Hence, intergenerational ties, through empowerment agents, are important for cultivating and helping urban youth work toward transforming conditions affecting their lives (Ginwright, 2007).
Implications
Urban communities have been described as “opportunity deserts,” as they lack the necessary organizational and individual-based empowerment resources that will help bridge teens of color toward successful futures. Youth living in urban communities often experience limited supportive structures both within the home and outside, with youth attending schools where the students vastly outnumber the teachers, and the teachers (whether perceived or otherwise) are viewed as uncaring and unsupportive (Taines, 2011). It is also important to note that because the teaching force in America’s schools are largely White, with middle-class backgrounds, students of color, as noted in our data, may not necessarily feel comfortable engaging staff in supportive relationships (Boucher & Helfenbein, 2015). In addition, staff may not be able to further cultivate the capital that the youth do utilize, drawn from their own communities, which could be built upon. However, at the same time, research has continuously emphasized the importance of close relationships, particularly those that emphasize proacademic identities, so the need for adult partners who can foster these kinds of relationships is important to continue to develop.
Stanton-Salazar (2011) highlighted the significance of empowerment agents for low-income youth of color. Practitioners, both those within and beyond school settings, must consider their roles as empowerment agents, who can facilitate and support low-status youth toward developing closer connections between their goals and ways in which to achieve them (Stanton-Salazar, 2011). Those involved with mentors in their community are likely to develop capital that can be passed along generationally. This is in firm opposition to the individualized bootstrapping mentality professed through meritocracy and sustained through a need to survive in their environmental context. As empowerment agents, practitioners assist youth with acquiring the necessary resources to achieve and empower them to gain mastery over their lives (Christens, 2012; Stanton-Salazar, 2011), as well as move toward a critical read of their social environments. As Christens and Kirshner (2011) discussed, having access to the types of networks that cultivate trusting and supportive relationships increases the motivation that youth will succeed in school, as well as outside in their social world. Thus, the nature of transformative educational success depends on practitioners engaging in bridging relationships for/with youth (Christens, 2012), coupled with cultivating a critical read of the world (Stanton-Salazar, 2011).
Because structural constraints and inequitable distribution of resources impede life chances particularly for marginalized groups, we emphasize here the development of critical consciousness toward enhancing their future possibilities (Watts, Diemer, & Voight, 2011). Scholars have emphasized that critical consciousness building allows for a more nuanced analysis of inequitable social conditions and how to take action to change them (Diemer & Rapa, 2016; Forenza et al., 2017). Youth who are provided access to empowerment-based mentors can begin to develop the necessary counternarratives to question their current social locations (Stanton-Salazar, 2011) and how inequities can be called into question (Christens, 2012). We suggest this as a beginning step toward youth learning to question ideas of meritocracy that lends itself toward bootstrapping “solutions” rather than broader societal interventions.
Existing structures, such as after-school programs, may be possible sites for this kind of cultivation of critical consciousness, but this would also require a shift in their current routine ways of working. As of yet, we do not have evidence that these sites routinely see this as a part of their work, nor that the adults working in these sites necessarily see themselves as empowerment agents. Further work with these adults, toward their work with youth, as well as the documentation of those after-school programs that do demonstrate critical consciousness work, may move us closer to creating more sites and relationships of opportunity within low-resourced communities. In the city in which this study took place, there is a growing coalition among community organizations serving youth, which could provide a collective voice for change, and provide further resources as they deepen their analyses to critically consider inequities.
Conclusion
In this article, we argued that the current and lingering rhetoric of American exceptionality and bootstrapping was not only unrealistic, but also detrimental. Youth in this study were located within a specific geographic context that required them to skillfully navigate their social terrain to survive, which in turn strengthened beliefs in self-reliance. Adolescents in this study did not refer to any bonding or bridging relationships that may support them outside of their neighborhoods. Instead, these young people articulated limited bonds to educators and an overall lack of hope for their city. Despite this lack of capital, youth continued to profess education as a pathway toward successful futures and associated, in some instances, educational success with an increase in social position and in essence the American Dream.
Although many in general society would associate such bootstrapping with past decades, we observe our most powerful leaders, such as former-President Barack Obama, expressing, “[With] the values of self-reliance and self-improvement and risk taking . . . thrift and personal responsibility . . . each of us can rise above the circumstances of our birth” (as cited in Glaude, 2016, pp. 151-152). However, for adolescents to meet the challenges of today’s world and the academic standards of the schools, they must have access to resource(full) relationships and activities that support a critical read of the world, which would ultimately allow for greater access to its possibilities (Stanton-Salazar, 2011). This critical read would enable them to question the narrative that self-reliance is sufficient in creating opportunity and put pressure instead on a nation in need of the development of their talents.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Drug-Free Communities Grant (DFC) Initiative (Grant #SPO22019-01). Funded through the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA).