Abstract
This case tells the story of a new principal who wants to lead inclusively by including people of all religious and non-religious beliefs. When she questions some of the existing practices in her school, she faces resistance from school members and from the community, who question her identity, her intentions, and her authority. The case is intended for use in leadership courses and highlights some dilemmas of inclusive leadership around religion, as well as those found in the intersectionality of religion, race, and gender.
Case Narrative
Yolanda Richards was excited about her new job as a high school principal in Prairie View. One of the few graduates of color from her licensure program, she decided to pursue administration at the suggestion of her principal, Mr. Williams. He suggested that while Ms. Richards was a wonderful English teacher and track coach, her skills might be better developed and used as the leader of a building. After 3 years as an assistant principal under Mr. Williams, Ms. Richards applied for principal jobs in nearby districts. And just like that here she was at Prairie View, about an hour away from the metro area where she had settled after college. “You can breathe some fresh air into the way we’ve done things around here,” her new superintendent, Dr. Rollins, had said. “Go for it,” Mr. Williams advised. “You’re ready.”
Ms. Richards was used to being “the only one,” both as a female administrator and an African American. She had negotiated many a conversation along the lines of, “Where did you move here from?” and she welcomed the chance to make a difference in Prairie View. The town of Prairie View had a history of being ethnically homogeneous—nearly all White—but lately community demographics had been shifting. Over the last 5 years, a small community of Sudanese refugees had settled in town, assisted by a network of churches across the state. In another change, several African American families from a neighboring state had moved to Prairie View, forming a fairly concentrated community on the town’s East side. Although there were some letters to the Prairie View newspaper from residents complaining about having to lock their doors for the first time (a subtext Ms. Richards read as, “We’re no longer safe with Black people here”), school officials welcomed the increase in student enrollment and recognized the opportunity for school staff to grow and learn with their students.
Dr. Rollins had invited Ms. Richards to apply for the position in his district after talking with her mentor, Mr. Williams, and had been encouraging about her value to the school throughout her interview process: “We have to educate our students to be global citizens,” he said. Ms. Richards would be the first—and only—administrator of color in the district, but she felt ready to take that step. She learned later that the school’s athletic director, a White man, had been a strong internal candidate, but she had been chosen because the hiring team had been energized by her vision and more collaborative leadership style. “We wanted something different,” one of her teachers explained, though there were some whispers around the community that she was an “affirmative action hire.”
Smooth Start
The school year started smoothly. There was a glitch or two on a bus route and the usual daily fires to put out, but Ms. Richards was pleased to see her staff engaged with students in rigorous work. She began a series of equity audits from Capper, Frattura, and Keyes (2000) with her staff, having used them in her principal preparation program, and felt that they served a dual purpose of informing her about the Prairie View community and informing her staff about the families they served. Most of the teachers and counselors were receptive and interested to learn along with her. There were many statements along the lines of, “I never knew that . . .” such as, “I never knew that we had homeless students in Prairie View,” or “I never knew that some of our Sudanese students are also identified as talented and gifted.”
Her experience in the community was a little more mixed. Sometimes, she was recognized at the grocery store and around her neighborhood as the new principal, but she felt that when people did not know who she was, she was eyed with suspicion. People usually greeted her on her morning walks, but sometimes seemed nervous, briefly making eye contact and then looking away, or crossing the street. One morning at the auto shop, while she was waiting to get her oil changed, a man wondered loudly to his companion if she had moved to Prairie View because the welfare benefits were better than in the neighboring state. Ms. Richards stared fixedly at her paperwork and pretended not to hear. Another day, she was stopped in the post office by an elderly man who demanded to know what made her think she could do a man’s job. She mentally rejected several rejoinders before saying, “I am completely qualified to lead this school and care for your children,” though she replayed the scene in her head afterward, thinking about what she might have said instead.
Ms. Richards was used to having a religious community of her own. In the metro area, she had attended a racially integrated Christian church, but she had not yet settled into one in Prairie View, where the churches were almost all White. One Sunday, in an effort to connect with some families from South Sudan she had met at school, she visited one of their church services, held at the Prairie View Lutheran church. Her Sudanese Muslim families did not yet have a mosque, so she was approaching some of her students’ mothers individually in an effort to be inclusive of her community. She was also aware that the only local mosque in the nearby city had been vandalized with graffiti regularly, which she observed one Sunday morning when she drove back to the metro area to attend her old church. Although she did not always make the trip, she kept up an active prayer life, believing that God had called her to Prairie View, but at school, she was quiet about her faith.
Basketball and Christmas
Boys’ basketball practices started in mid-November, and the first game was played on December 1 against one of the teams in the metro area. Ms. Richards was delighted to learn that the Prairie View Prairie Dogs had made it to the state finals the year before, and she arrived early at the first game wearing the team colors of red and white. Before the junior varsity game, she asked one of the assistant coaches, also a high school history teacher, if she could enter the locker room to wish the boys well. “Sure!” he said, beckoning her in. “You’ll be just in time for the prayer.”
“In time for prayer?” wondered Ms. Richards. She was still working on that thought as she entered, where she found the boys in a circle around their coach.
“Come on in!” Coach Villanova greeted her. He motioned her into the circle, where Karim, a sophomore, shyly took her hand before bowing his head awkwardly. Ms. Richards had briefly spoken with Karim’s mother the previous week, as she had expressed some concern about comments directed at him by his older classmates that he perceived to be racist. As coach prayed for the boys’ safety on both teams, for a good game with sportsmanship and honor, Ms. Richards lost focus and was not sure what else he said, because she was thinking of the ramifications of her, as principal, having participated in a group prayer before the basketball game. As she heard, “In Jesus’s name, Amen,” she looked around and saw all eyes on her. Unsure what to say, she quickly collected herself and addressed the expectant team, wishing them well in their game. A similar scene occurred later that evening before the varsity game, though this time the assistant coach was waiting for her before leading her once again into the circle.
The next morning, Ms. Richards was still wrestling with how to respond to the praying before basketball games as she entered the building and headed toward her office. The main office bulletin board and the floor in front of it were crowded with five teachers, a step stool, construction paper, and boxes of Christmas decorations. “Good morning,” she greeted them. “Looks like you’re busy!”
“Just adding some Christmas cheer!” said Ms. McNeil, one of the special education teachers, who had glitter on her chin. “We’re starting the Christmas door decorating contest!”
“Christmas door decorating contest?” Ms. Richards stammered.
Yes! This year our theme is “Christmas on the Prairie.” Each homeroom will decorate, and we’ve got prizes lined up for the last day of school. Shafer’s grocery store has donated hot chocolate mix to make for the students in the winning homeroom, and Mrs. Mueller will make donuts, and—
“How do you like our peppermint prairie dog?” broke in another teacher, standing back to proudly display the decoration she had been stapling to the bulletin board.
“Um. That’s quite something,” said Ms. Richards.
“Where do you ladies want the Angel Tree?” boomed a voice. Ms. Richards could just see feet under a big white artificial Christmas tree.
“Oh, it goes over there,” said Ms. McNeil, heading across the lobby, “I think there’s an outlet for the lights.”
Ms. Richards slowly headed toward her office, thinking, “I am not sure we can do this. But I don’t want to be a fun-hater.” After wrestling with the issues internally for a few days, she decided that the best move might be to not rock the boat. After all, in a few short weeks the school would be out on winter break, and the whole Christmas theme would be done. And although she was concerned about the prayer before sporting events, she was not sure exactly how to address it in a practical way. After all, she was not about to start monitoring all pregame team huddles!
Muslim Prayer and Social Media
Having made it through the Christmas season, albeit with some personal qualms, Ms. Richards’ next challenge came in mid-January when a Muslim student, Meriam, requested a quiet place to pray during the school day. “Certainly, Meriam,” Ms. Richards responded, “I’m sure we can find you a spot.” “After all,” she thought to herself, “this school certainly embraces religion!” However, as she began to explore possibilities, she was surprised by the resistance she met. The school library, she was told by the librarian, was “too busy.” The girls’ locker room “couldn’t be supervised adequately.” For a while, Ms. Richards allowed Meriam to use the principal’s office but found herself needing to cut phone calls short and move meetings to provide the quiet that Meriam needed. Eventually, she found a storage room off the auditorium. She cleaned it out herself, furnished it with a yoga mat, and provided Meriam a key.
At the next faculty meeting, she was met with questions: Was it true that she had issued a school key to a student? Why? Who was supervising that student? As Ms. Richards answered questions, the tenor of the discussion took a different turn: Why was Muslim prayer being allowed in school when Christian prayer isn’t allowed? Where was this going to stop? Was she going to let every student have a school key to pray privately? Ms. Richards answered questions as best she could but was surprised that her normally friendly, and at least always professional, staff had taken this turn. That afternoon, she got a call from the local newspaper: Was it true that she was letting a Muslim student pray in school? Again, Ms. Richards answered questions and on hanging up, called Dr. Rollins to inform him of what had happened. He thanked her for letting him know and said that he would like a three-way conference call with the school district attorney on retainer, “Just to cover our bases.”
The following morning, Ms. Richards learned from her front office administrator that the school Facebook account, which was managed by office staff and the school athletic director, had “blown up” overnight with community comments. Comments had quickly moved from questions about student prayer and religion in school to derogatory comments about Muslims and racist insinuations about students and families of color. They also attacked Ms. Richards herself, wondering whether she was Muslim, questioning her qualifications, stating that the school should have hired the (White male) athletic director instead, and referring to her as “the affirmative action hire.”
On her way to visit Dr. Rollins, Ms. Richards found a note, written on school stationery, on the windshield of her car: “We knew someone like you would be a problem.” Shaken, Ms. Richards wondered, “What does this mean, ‘Someone like me?’ What kind of problem? And who wrote this?”
Teaching Notes
The purpose of this case is to articulate the challenges of inclusive leadership in relation to the intersectionality of religion, race, and gender within a public school system, which is deeply, and historically, informed by religious, racialized, and gendered norms and values. From the first colonial schools, created by the Puritans to teach children to read the Bible, to the establishment of our public school system, religion has played a prominent roll in the shaping of American education. As noted by Marshall (2014), “Horace Mann, who is credited for establishing the statewide, publicly funded model of public schools known today, argued in the mid-1800s that such schools were needed both to create democratic citizens and good Christians” (p. 140). When considered alongside the complex history of exclusionary policies and practices experienced by people of color and women across American society, it is critical for school leaders to understand how groups, including, but not limited to women, people of color, non-Christians (Kincheloe, Steinberg, & Stonebanks, 2010), the working class (Bowles & Gintis, 1976), Lesbian Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning / Queer communities (Lugg, 2003), people who are differently abled (Hehir, 2002), and immigrants (Suarez-Orozco, 2001) have, and continue to be, purposefully positioned and perceived as threats to the very fabric of “American culture” and identity (Rury, 2013). Recognizing this history, along with the specific histories of the communities we serve, lends to a more critical understanding of why education policy, schooling, and the content of the curriculum, both written and hidden, continue to be so heavily contested in the present day.
In relation to race, racism, White privilege, and educational leadership, López (2001, 2003), Brooks (2012), and others have documented how racism is deeply embedded in educational policy, as well as leadership practice. Applying critical race theory to educational leadership and challenging racism in education, Parker and Villalpando (2007) have argued that leadership scholars and practitioners must work to acknowledge and challenge the role that race and racism plays in shaping policy and practice, while also centering the experiential knowledge of teachers, students, and communities of color in recognizing how this has played out historically, toward the end of envisioning more socially just approaches to school leadership. As Alemán and Alemán (2010) have noted, racial justice can only be achieved when leaders foreground a deep understanding of race and racism in the struggle for social justice.
Outlining the history of sexism and heterosexism, as well as the legacy of gendered inequities within the field of educational leadership, Lugg (2003) has drawn extensively from the tradition of critical legal studies to provide a more nuanced understanding of how historical injustices persist in leadership discourse and practice. Drawing on feminist theory, Young and Skrla (2012) have expressed the value of feminist approaches to educational leadership, while acknowledging the need to address and overcome the tensions that exist between White women and women of color leaders in relation to addressing the challenges presented within a field that has been defined as a traditionally White, male profession. While noting that gains have been made by women in the profession, including access to leadership, Blackmore (2013) has argued that a feminist critique of gendered norms should not be lost, but rather, forwarded in the struggle for social justice.
Acknowledging both the similarities and differences between oppressive structures that serve to reproduce racism, sexism, heterosexism, ableism, and class-based oppression and resulting educational inequities, Theoharis and Scanlan (2015) have articulated a vision for socially just and inclusive leadership that centers the analysis and intersectional nature of structural forms of oppression as “Intersectionality is tied directly to the broader structures of strengthening the school culture and community” (p. 4). For the purpose of this case study and to support dialogue and discussion on inclusive leadership in religiously diverse communities, we emphasize the utility of an intersectional approach, while also offering suggestions for classroom activities and further reading.
Leading Inclusively at the Intersection of Religion, Race, and Gender
While religion, particularly Christianity, has played a central role in the shaping of the American public education system, the “separation between church and state,” a phrase popularized by Thomas Jefferson (1802) in his Letter to the Danbury Baptists, is deployed, almost religiously, to challenge the establishment of religious values and practices in public schooling and other state institutions. However, contrary to popular belief, this phrase is not found in the Constitution (Dreisbach, 2002); rather, Article 3 of the Bill of Rights reads, Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. (U.S. Const. amend. 1)
In addition, it is important to note that Jefferson’s comment, itself, is not free from religious bias and Christian privilege in its reference to “church,” as non-Christian religions do not refer to their places of worship as such (Blumenfeld, 2006). In reflecting on the above, we can ascertain that prayer is not, necessarily, categorically prohibited in schools. Furthermore, considering Jefferson’s language and his use of the word “church,” we are reminded of how Christian norms and values have informed and continue to be embedded in the very way in which religion is conceptualized and discussed in our society, as well as in everyday practices related to schooling. Marshall (2014) has discussed how Christian practices continue to be included in everyday schooling through what she terms, blurry Christianity. Offering school calendars and scheduling, teacher-led prayers, and the use of churches as meeting places as examples, Marshall defines blurry Christianity as “practices that might originally have derived from Christian beliefs, but which now become a part of the way schools operate” (p. 140). In addition to the reproduction and maintenance of Christian norms and values, contemporary education and schooling practices are also informed by an extensive history of raced and gendered inequality (Rury, 2013).
Bringing the concept of intersectionality to prominence, Crenshaw (1991) has argued that “through an awareness of intersectionality, we can better acknowledge and ground the differences among us and negotiate the means by which these differences will find expression in constructing group politics” (p. 1299). As presented in this case, Ms. Richards has found herself at the intersection of religion, race, and gender as the new principal of a high school in a small town experiencing significant demographic shifts with regard to race and religion. As a woman, she is breaking ground in a profession that has historically been reserved for men (Blount, 1999; Lugg, 2003). As a woman of color in a predominantly White, Christian, rural school in the Midwest, her presence and position of influence is perhaps a challenge to the dominant norms and values of the community she has been hired to serve, though she was still hired. However, in her effort to provide an inclusive environment for students of differing faiths, her qualifications, legitimacy, faith, and appointment as principal are called into question. As indicated in her faithed, gendered, and raced interactions in Prairie View, Ms. Richards is unsure what the note on her car actually meant. Was the note she found on her car expressing “We knew someone like you would be a problem” in reference to her race, her perceived religious affiliation, or her gender, or perhaps all the above? How can the concept of intersectionality help us understand the nuances of Ms. Richards’ dilemma and assist us in making sense of how interlocking systems of oppression function, and what can we do as leaders working toward creating inclusive schools for all students?
Discussion Questions
One direction for discussion of this case would be school law and its rulings on religious practices such as school-led prayer. However, we have chosen instead to let Ms. Richards consult the district attorney for those answers and focus here on decisions about leading inclusively for religion across intersectionalities of gender and race.
In addition to conducting equity audits, what can Ms. Richards do to prepare her faculty and staff more adequately to work with the changing population of Prairie View?
Following the prayers in the locker room prior to the boys’ junior varsity and varsity basketball games and brief conversation with teachers regarding Christmas festivities at Prairie View High School, what are next steps for Ms. Richards to create an inclusive school environment for students of all faiths? How could she approach and/or frame a conversation that acknowledges intersectionality and interlocking systems of oppression?
As a new principal in a new community, how might Ms. Richards have anticipated the response she received from the media, faculty, and the community prior to providing Meriam with a space to conduct her religious obligations? How might your actions be different if you were in her place, given your own identity?
How might the responses of the school and local communities to Ms. Richards be different if her own identities were different? What if, for example, she were a White man? What if she were a male person of color? What if she were an atheist? What if she were gay?
How are cultural beliefs, norms, and values around religion, race, and gender embedded in the everyday life and practices of your school or community? How can you use these practices to articulate the need for inclusive schooling while acknowledging intersectionality?
How has intersectionality informed your personal experience as a student, teacher, leader, and community member?
As a new principal in a new and changing community, how would you go about creating educational and pedagogical opportunities to challenge dominant norms, values, and beliefs that might not be inclusive? How might an understanding of overlapping and intersectional forms of oppression assist you in this process? Devise a plan, including a timeline.
What is the difference between being a good leader and being a social justice leader (see Table 3 of Theoharis, 2007)? What kind of leader would you say Ms. Richards is? What are some strategies she can use to improve?
Activities
Equity Audit
Equity audits are a tool for school leaders and leadership candidates to collect data about their own school contexts and then analyze that data to identify areas that need improvement. Skrla, Scheurich, Garcia, and Nolly (2004) provide a historical overview of the tool and reconceptualize it from one which is solely focused on achievement gaps to one which is focused on what they call “systemic inequity,” including teacher quality, programs, and achievement. In our principal preparation program, we use equity audits from Capper et al. (2000) to ask questions about not only student achievement but also social components of schooling, such as the number of students from low socioeconomic status who are in band. This focus on data, particularly in our data-driven, accountability-laden environment, creates a strong motive for students to engage with their schools and with each other in difficult conversations about inequities that surface around, for example, race, religion, or gender.
Resources on Equity Audits
Capper, C. A., Frattura, E. M., & Keyes, M. W. (2000). Meeting the needs of students of ALL abilities: How leaders go beyond inclusion. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press.
Skrla, L., Scheurich, J. J., Garcia, J., & Nolly, G. (2004). Equity audits: A practical leadership tool for developing equitable and excellent schools. Educational Administration Quarterly, 40, 133-161.
Autoethnography
Different from autobiography, autoethnography requires student researchers to write about themselves in relation to a group or community. Autoethnography is a way of doing and writing up research “That seeks to describe and systematically analyze personal experience in order to understand cultural experience,” and “challenges canonical ways of doing research and representing others and treats research as a political, socially-just and socially-conscious act” (Ellis, Adams, & Bochner, 2011, p. 273). Students weave together their personal experiences and identity into their work as educators and community members. Have students write and/or share their autoethnographies, focusing on how their race, gender, religion, and other identity markers have shaped and affected them as students, educators, and community members. Specific prompts for student autoethnographies might include
How have your race, class status, gender, sexuality, religious affiliation, and ability shaped your life experiences?
How have your race, class status, gender, sexuality, religious affiliation, and ability informed your educational opportunities?
How have your respective experiences based on race, class status, gender, sexuality, religious affiliation, and ability informed your work as an educator?
Resources on Autoethnography
Ellis, C., Adams, T. E., & Bochner, A. P. (2011). Autoethnography: An overview. Historical Social Research, 12, 273-290.
Theoharis, G. (2007). Social justice educational leaders and resistance: Toward a theory of social justice leadership. Educational Administration Quarterly, 43, 221-258.
Additional Resources
The concept of intersectionality, though not necessarily framed as such, has played a critical role in the formation of theological and spiritual approaches to education. Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and interfaith approaches to liberation theology have the potential of offering students a unique perspective regarding how religion intersects with gender and racial justice. For a deeper discussion, we offer the following resources:
Additional Resources on Religion/Spirituality
Aquino, M. P. (1993). Our cry for life: Feminist theology from Latin America. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Boff, L. (1987). Introducing liberation theology. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Cone, J. H. (2010). A Black theology of liberation. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Dabashi, H. (2008). Islamic liberation theology: Resisting the empire. New York, NY: Routledge.
Dorraj, M. (1999). The crisis of modernity and religious revivalism: A comparative study of Islamic fundamentalism, Jewish fundamentalism and liberation theology. Social Compass, 46, 225-240.
Ellis, M. H. (1989). Toward a Jewish theology of liberation: The uprising and the future. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Gutiérrez, G. (1988). A theology of liberation. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Additional Reading Exploring the Concept of Intersectionality Between Religion/Spirituality, Race, and Gender
Anzaldua, G. (1987). Borderlands/La frontera. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute.
Hooks, B. (2003). Teaching community: A pedagogy of hope. New York, NY: Routledge.
Hooks, B. (2014). Teaching to transgress. New York, NY: Routledge.
Hunt, V., Zajicek, A. M., Norris, A. N., & Hamilton, L. (2009). Incorporating intersectionality in social work practice, research, policy, and education. Washington, DC: National Association of Social Workers.
Moraga, C., & Anzaldúa, G. (Eds.). (2015). This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women of color. Albany: State University of New York Press.
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) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Author Biographies
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