Is it the obligation of people of color to include white people in discussions of diversity? Jose Antonio Vargas, founder of Define America and #EmergingUS seems to believe so. In a recent tweet he stated, “Too often, when people of color discuss ‘diversity,’ we don’t include #whitepeople in the conversation. That must stop.”  In this tweet, Vargas suggests that it is the obligation of people of color to include white people in discussions of diversity and that creating spaces that do not include white people are counterproductive.

To be fair, twitter is a hard place to have nuanced conversations about race. Indeed, though we had a brief twitter exchange about it, I decided to write this blog post precisely because I struggled to write a critique of this comment in 140 characters or less. My goal in this post is to more clearly lay out the concerns that I raised in our brief twitter engage in the spirit of Vargas’ invitation to engage in “uncomfortable conversations” about race with one another.

Vargas’ tweet overlooks the important structural distinction between the lives of people of color and the lives of white people. People of color can never exclude white people from their lives. People of color have to interact with white teachers, police officers, bosses, the media etc. In contrast, white people either consciously or unconsciously exclude people of color on a daily basis by inhabiting mostly or exclusively white spaces that are a product of centuries of oppression of people of color and that continue to impact the material realities of people of color today.

White people can go to school assured that most, if not all, of their teachers look like them, can be confident that interactions with the police will likely be with somebody of their same racial background, can easily find employment in spaces where their bosses are white and can find an innumerable number of shows and movies about people like them. It is these mostly or exclusively white spaces that are the root of the problem of racial inequality and that should be subject to critique not people of color discussing racial inequality without white people present.

Ironically, it is within these mostly or exclusively white spaces where discussions of diversity that Vargas seems to suggest white people are being excluded from emerged. In a recent article, Ellen Berrey, an assistant professor of sociology, claims that discussions of diversity don’t exclude white people but are only for white people. Discussions of diversity have shifted conversations away from a focus on structural inequality toward a discussion of “a celebration of cultural difference as a competitive advantage.”

This shift allows white people to feel good about themselves for celebrating diversity while continuing to benefit from the privilege afforded to them by a white supremacist society. Therefore, the major impediment to racial progress is not that white people are not included in discussions of diversity but rather the concept of diversity itself, which erases centuries of oppression and replaces it with a focus on everybody just getting along.

Vargas ended our brief twitter exchange arguing that “We need a safe space where people of color AND #whitepeople can talk and hear each other.”  This conclusion is precisely my concern with his focus on the need for more discussions about diversity between people of color and white people as opposed to more discussions about the structural oppression of people of color. It presupposes that people of color and white people are on equal footing in US society and can both be equally “safe” or “unsafe” in US society. White people can easily avoid “unsafe” spaces that include having conversations with people of color about race while people of color cannot easily avoid “unsafe” spaces that include hostility from white people.

Should white people decide to engage in a space that they deem “unsafe” the worse that can happen to them is that their feelings get hurt. In contrast, white people in “safe spaces” may feel “safe” enough to cry in ways that privilege their feelings over the lived experience of people of color, “safe” enough to express microaggressions that have psychological consequences  for people color, or “safe” enough to brand a person of color as “angry” and “confrontational” in ways that exclude them from access to professional opportunities.

For a white person to feel like they are in a “safe space” may, by necessity, mean that the space is hostile to people of color—indeed, this very dynamic can be seen in Vargas documentary White People where a white girl co-opts a discussion about racial inequality by claiming that she feels attacked. Yet, Vargas is suggesting that people of color are at fault for refusing to endure these “safe spaces” without creating spaces of their own to cope with the psychological consequences.

Discussions of race cannot begin from the premise that it is the responsibility of people of color to invite white people into conversations about ‘diversity.’ Instead, they must begin from the premise that discussions of diversity are a tool of white supremacy that erases the ways that structural racism is endemic to US society. From this perspective, people of color spaces are understood to be ways of coping with structural oppression and not as discussions of diversity that unnecessarily exclude white people. These spaces become spaces where people of color can work in solidarity with one another to heal from the wounds of white supremacy without having to justify its existence or cater to the feelings of white people. Indeed, it is through construction these spaces that people of color can continue the struggle to dismantle white supremacy—a goal that must be at the root of any meaningful discussion of race in the US.

Bilingual education in the United States is at a crossroads. One path has the potential to bridge racial divides and narrow the achievement gap that is exacerbating social and economic inequality. The other turn takes bilingual education down the well-traveled road to exclusivity, privilege, and racism.

When I first began working in bilingual education 15 years ago, I entered a field that was under attack. An initiative outlawing bilingual education had already passed in California and was soon followed by bans in Arizona and Massachusetts. Even states where it was still legal to offer bilingual education were not actively supporting or expanding their bilingual programming. Policy makers wouldn’t touch it.

Fifteen years later the landscape has changed significantly. I recently witnessed Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter along with Philadelphia School District Superintendent William Hite visit a dual language kindergarten classroom at a Philadelphia public school and applaud its innovative approach to education Philadelphia school children. This dual language classroom is one of six such programs that opened in the School District of Philadelphia in the 2014-2015 academic year. This celebration and expansion of dual language education is part of larger national trend.

So how did bilingual education transform from the pariah of education to a mainstream and celebrated innovation? For one, the research that illustrates the benefits of bilingual education can no longer be dismissed. Study after study has demonstrated that students in bilingual programs outperform students in English-only programs. It has become increasingly clear that opposition to bilingual education is political, with little research-based evidence to back it up.

But perhaps more importantly, the primary constituency for bilingual education has also shifted. Historically, the most vocal supporters of bilingual education were Latinos who wanted their children to maintain their Spanish while also learning English. While Latinos continue to advocate for bilingual education, the number of affluent White parents who desire bilingual education for their children has been on the rise.

This shift in constituency has transformed the structure of bilingual education from remedial transitional programs targeting English Language Learners to dual language enrichment programs targeting all students whose parents want them to become bilingual. This re-framing of bilingual education has made these programs more politically palatable and provided them more political legitimacy. This is a great example of cross-racial solidarity that has worked to ensure that more children are able to receive bilingual education.

At the same time, this re-framing has led to troubling trends as these programs become re-branded as selective programs. For example, the city of Holyoke has a dual language program that is reserved for gifted and talented students. A similar phenomenon can be found in Miami-Dade, where the district attempted to phase out its traditional Spanish instruction available to all students in favor of a dual language model available only to students reading at grade level in their dominant language. In Illinois, dual language programs are more likely to be found in affluent White communities than low income communities of color. Tucson has taken this phenomenon to the most egregious level possible by requiring English language proficiency in order for students to participate in dual language education. So while dual language programs are proliferating, they may be doing so in ways that are excluding the original benefactors of bilingual education.

Yet, it is not just English Language Learners who will be affected by this attempt to rebrand dual language education as a selective program for academically gifted students. Instead, any attempt at systematically excluding students from dual language education is likely to impact students of color, low-income students, and special education students as well. Research has demonstrated the benefit of bilingual instruction for all students. This exclusion is nothing more than a new form of discrimination against the most vulnerable students in U.S. public schools. This discrimination will have wide-ranging consequences as affluent White children develop bilingual skills that will make them more attractive to colleges and employers that low-income students of color are denied access to.

Many supporters of bilingual education understand the possible consequences of this rebranding and have rejected it. In Miami-Dade a cross-racial coalition that includes the NAACP and LULAC have demanded more equitable access to bilingual instruction for all students. New York City has framed its expansion of dual language programs around the need to increase the achievement of English Language Learners. And Philadelphia has strived to ensure that dual language options are available in low-income communities with large Latino and African American populations. It is important to continue to support these kinds of initiatives that strive to make bilingual instruction as equitable as possible while continuing to remain vigilant about attempts to re-cast dual language education as selective programs.

Support for bilingual education is stronger than it has been in decades. Yet, a disturbing element of this support is attempting to make bilingual education a privilege available only to certain students. We must build on the momentum in supporting bilingual education while ensuring that these programs are available to all students.

I recently met with representatives of a school district with a large and growing number of Latino students. The consensus of these district representatives was that their Latino students were struggling academically because they have failed to master the “academic language” that was needed for school success. I have heard variants of this narrative throughout my career as a teacher and researcher with the language proficiency of Latinos dismissively referred to as “playground language” that provides little foundation for the type of academic language that they need to be successful in school. But what exactly is academic language?

When I ask this question I often receive a variant of two responses. The first response is that playground language is the contextualized language of social interaction while academic language is the decontextualized language of schooling. The argument is that the contextualized nature of playground language makes it less complex and easier to master than academic language. I sometimes wonder if people who make this argument have every actually observed students on the playground. As a life-long socially awkward nerd who has always received good grades but often struggled to negotiate the complex social relations of the playground I can personally attest to the fact that there is nothing inherently more contextualized or less complex about the negotiations that happen on the playground.

The second response is that academic language is the language associated with specific content areas. The argument is students who have mastered academic language are able to speak and write like historians, mathematicians and scientists. Yet how exactly does a historian, mathematician or scientist speak and write? Let’s take prominent scientist Stephen Hawking as an example. A quick google search of his work indicates a wide range of language practices that include peer-reviewed journal articles targeting other scientists, books such as A Brief History of Time that attempt to make scientific concepts more accessible to a general audience and even videos such as Intro the Universe with Stephen Hawking that augment this more accessible approach with visuals and narration. In which of these capacities is Stephen Hawking using the language of science and which of these should be the goal when we are trying to teach students academic language?

Both of these definitions reify a rigid dichotomy between “academic” and “non-academic” language that has little basis in actual language-in-use. But might such an oversimplified conceptualization of language still be useful in some regards? Imagine walking into classroom with the expressed purpose of determining whether you observe academic language. You overhear a student offering a linguistic analysis of the different ways that her name can be pronounced and how that relates to the identity of the speaker. You witness students debating the nuances of translation as they determine the best way to say a particular word in another language. You observe a conversation about whether “nigga” is a term of endearment or a racial slur. As an educational linguist I certainly see evidence that students are engaged in the language of sociolinguistics. They are discussing the relationship between language and identity, reflecting on the important of an understanding of cultural context in translation and debating the ways that words may have different meanings in different contexts. So, do these types of social interactions constitute academic language?

These interactions are not fictional. They were actually observed by members of my research team in first grade classrooms at an elementary school serving a primarily low-income Latino student population. You might wonder what kind of innovative pedagogical approach is being used to support these students in engaging in such sophisticated linguistic analysis. After all, if dominant representations of Latino students are true it is difficult to imagine these students being able to engage in these language practices using their playground language. Perhaps the teaching is providing scaffolding techniques that are facilitating the student discussions. Or maybe the teacher has special training in teaching academic language to “at-risk” youth. How else would these Latino students be able to engage in such academic tasks? Actually, the teacher did not play a role in any of these interactions. They all occurred as part of unofficial student interactions that were not directly related to the teacher’s lesson.

How is it possible for the dominant representation of the language practices of Latino students to clash so starkly with the unofficial interactions that we have observed in our research? This is possible because the concept of academic language is fundamentally flawed. It begins from the premise that language can be dichotomized into “academic” and “non-academic” forms and presupposes that Latino children inevitably come to school without a strong foundation in the academic forms. The deficit perspective produced by this narrative has become so ingrained that regardless of what Latino children do with language they will always be positioned as lacking a strong foundation in academic language. Indeed, members of my research team have overheard teachers describing the Latino students that we observed engaged in sociolinguistic inquiry in precisely these terms. Were these children White middle-class children and engaged in this type of sociolinguistic inquiry it is doubtful that questions related to their mastery of academic language would be raised.

It is for this reason that I am calling for a moratorium on current discussions of academic language. To be clear, I am not suggesting that we stop talking about academic language. Instead, I am calling for a moratorium on uncritical framings of academic language as an objective set of linguistic forms that are dichotomous with the playground language of Latinos and other language-minoritized students. Declaring this moratorium would transform our task away from attempts at objectively defining and assessing academic language toward an exploration of the ways that certain populations become recognized by school and society as using academic language and the ways that other populations become recognized by school and society as lacking academic language. The ultimate goal would be to develop a new conceptualization of language that is situated within a larger critique of racial inequalities that current conceptualizations of academic language normalize.

In my most recent blog post I flipped the script and asked the question: What if we talked about monolingual White children the way we talk about low-income children of color? Many people responded that there was a kernel of truth in my satirical argument about the disadvantages of monolingualism and that this disadvantage was true regardless of the racial background of the students. This argument makes two suppositions: (1) that monolingualism is a disadvantage and (2) that race is not a factor in creating this disadvantage.

I find both of these suppositions problematic. To call monolingualism a disadvantage implies that monolingualism is somehow a barrier to success. Yet, many of the most successful members of US society are unapologetically monolingual. To argue that race is not a factor implies that monolingualism is treated the same when it is a White person vs. a person of color. This obscures the working of raciolinguistic ideologies that celebrate monolingualism in White communities while pathologizing it in communities of color.

To unpack these claims let me introduce to you to four fictional elementary school students: Tom, Cindy Antonio and Jasmine. Tom and Cindy both come from English-speaking households and identify as monolingual English speakers, though Tom is White and Cindy is Black. Antonio just moved to the United States from Mexico and is a monolingual Spanish speaker. Jasmine comes from a bilingual household and is bilingual in English and Spanish. For the above suppositions to be true Jasmine, coming from a bilingual household, should have the biggest advantage with all of the monolingual children being equally disadvantaged. Yet, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

Tom has all of the advantages in the world. He comes to school speaking the same variety of English as his teacher. All of his classroom instruction is in this variety of English. He is also assessed using this variety of English. His teacher appreciates the richness of his vocabulary and identifies him as one of the strongest students in the class and recommends him for accelerated learning opportunities.

Let’s contrast this experience with Jasmine. Jasmine receives instruction in only one of the languages that she knows and her bilingualism is seen as a barrier to learning. Her teacher is especially concerned by the fact that Jasmine sometimes says words in Spanish when being assessed to determine her reading level. This mixing of languages places her far below grade level and her teacher recommends her for remedial support.

Though this is a fictional case, the contrast between the two is consistent with the ways that monolingualism is privileged over bilingualism in US schools. So while I understand the reflex to argue that monolingualism is a disadvantage in order to advocate for bilingualism, to do so erases the material benefits of monolingualism in US society. White middle class English speakers like Tom are not oppressed for being monolingual in the US. Instead, their monolingualism is part of their privilege.

It is the monolingualism of people of color that is often a disadvantage. In the case of Antonio this disadvantage comes from the fact that he is monolingual in the wrong language. Unlike Tom, when Antonio enters school he receives all of his instruction in a language that he doesn’t understand. He is also assessed in a language that he doesn’t understand. He begins to fall behind in his academic work and in addition to his ESL class he is also recommended for remedial support.

In the case of Cindy this disadvantage comes from the fact that she often uses the wrong variety of English. Like Tom she receives instruction in a language that she knows. Unlike Tom, she is often reprimanded by the teacher for speaking “improper English.” When assessed she often loses points for “mispronouncing” words. Her poor performance on these assessments leads the teacher to recommend her for remedial support.

Cases like Antonio are familiar to those of us who advocate for bilingualism. Indeed, we might be tempted to use this case as an example precisely for why we should argue for the advantage of bilingualism over monolingualism. Cases like Cindy may be less familiar to us. Yet, I believe it is crucial that we consider these cases. The language practices of many monolingual Black children are already described using deficit frames. Nonchalantly arguing that monolingualism is a disadvantage at best confirms and at worse exacerbates this deficit frame.

A more productive approach toward advocacy for bilingualism should begin from the premise that all children, whether they come from monolingual, bilingual or multilingual homes, are socialized into complex language practices that could and should be built upon in schools. This stance must be paired with a strident critique of the racial hierarchies of US society that produce deficit perspectives of students of color. Students like Tom will have their language practices built upon by teachers for the simple fact that they are White middle class children. Students like Jasmine, Antonio and Cindy often do not have their language practices built upon by teachers for the simple fact that they are low-income students of color. Race matters when advocating for bilingualism and must be front and center if we truly want a world where all language practices are affirmed.

I have written a previous post debunking the so-called language-gap.  In this post I flip the script and imagine a world where interventions have been developed for monolingual White children using the same language gap discourse.


It is a well-documented fact that by the age of 5 monolingual White children will have heard 30 million fewer words in languages other than English than bilingual children of color. In addition, they will have had a complete lack of exposure to the richness of non-standardized varieties of English that characterize the homes of many children of color. This language gap increases the longer these children are in school. The question is what causes this language gap and what can be done to address it?

The major cause of this language gap is the failure of monolingual White communities to successfully assimilate into the multilingual and multidialectal mainstream. The continued existence of White ethnic enclaves persists despite concerted efforts to integrate White communities into the multiracial mainstream since the 1960s. In these linguistically isolated enclaves it is possible to go for days without interacting with anybody who does not speak Standardized American English providing little incentive for their inhabitants to adapt to the multilingual and multidialectal nature of  US society.

This linguistic isolation has a detrimental effect on the cognitive development of monolingual White children. This is because linguistically isolated households lack the rich translanguaging practices that are found in bilingual households and the elaborate style-shifting that occurs in bidialectal households. This leaves monolingual White children without a strong metalinguistic basis for language learning. As a result, many of these monolingual White children lack the school-readiness skills needed for foreign language learning and graduate from school having mastered nothing but Standardized American English leaving them ill-equipped to engage in intercultural communication.

“Multilingual Talks” is a new project that seeks to address this language gap between monolingual White children and bilingual and bidialectal children of color. It seems to do this by offering monolingual White parents metalinguistic training that is intended to provide them a foundation in different languages and language varieties. These parents will also be provided with a “language pedometer” that helps them keep track of the number of times that they use a language or language variety other than Standardized American English when speaking with their children. They will also be providing with a library of multilingual and multidialectal books and coached on how to effectively read them with their children to ensure strong metalinguistic development.

Multilingual Talks has recently received a 5 million dollar grant to pilot their approach in a White community that has struggled to eradicate monolingualism. The initial findings have been positive. Home coaches have reported an increased use of languages other than English as well as metalinguistic discussions related to different varieties of English by parents in their interactions with children. The project is currently moving into phase 2 where home coaching will be decreased and the parents will be expected to keep a daily log of their language use to ensure that they continue to talk to their children in languages other than English and expose their children to non-standardized varieties of English. These daily logs will be shared with home coaches on a monthly basis. The goal will be to track the students once they begin school to track their continued language development.

Multilingual Talks is one of many such projects that have emerged in recent years to address the language gap. What unites all of these projects is the idea of addressing the problem where it begins–in the linguistic isolation of the homes of monolingual White children. The hope is that by training monolingual White parents to interact with their children in ways that develop the metalinguistic awareness needed for language learning success, these children will come in better prepared to learn new languages and become successful members of the multilingual and multidialectal US mainstream.


To be clear, I do not agree with the deficit framing of monolingual White children expressed above.  Yet, if you found any of the description offensive or problematic you might want to consider the fact that this exact discourse is used to describe the language practices of low-income communities of color on a daily basis by researchers, policymakers and teachers. Even more troubling, the Multilingual Talks intervention described above is based on a real intervention that has received positive media attention. This raises the question of why it is that such an intervention is seen as absurd for monolingual White communities while it is seen as acceptable for low-income communities of color.

The challenges faced by low-income communities of color will not be eliminated by interventions developed to address a supposed language gap. Instead, these challenges will only be eliminated when we dismantle the racial hierarchies that permeate US society. Language education can only play a role in dismantling these racial hierarchies when it rejects deficit discourses and begins from the premise that all children are socialized into complex home language practices that could and should be incorporated into the school curriculum.

Anybody who has ever taken a class with me know that we do a great deal of reflection on the ideological underpinnings of the words we use. We examine the power of these words to shape our worldview and the ways that words are often used to justify inequality. We also examine and reflect on how we can use ways in ways that bring focus to structural inequality and advocate social transformation.

In line with this thinking I was particularly intrigued by the use of #lovewins in response to last weeks Supreme Court ruling making marriage equality the law of the land. At first glance the meaning of #lovewins seems simple enough. People who love each other can now have this love recognized by the government in ways that they previously could not. Yet, a deeper reflection on #lovewins raises questions related to whose love was being talked about and what exactly was being won. For example, it didn’t feel like love was winning when a group of LGBT leaders invited to the White House to celebrate a Pride event shushed and booed transgender immigrant activist Jennicet Gutierrez when she spoke out against the mistreatment of transgender people in immigrant detention centers. On the contrary, the responses of those present and the subsequent response on social media seemed anything but loving. So if #lovewins why are so many people completely unloving in their responses to the most marginalized in US society?

Perhaps this is because #lovewins isn’t enough. Instead, maybe we need #queerlovewins. #Lovewins centers the lived experiences of the most privileged elements of the LGBT community who can now claim “first class citizenship” because of their ability to receive government-sanctioned marriage. In contrast, #queerlovewins centers the lived experiences of the most marginalized elements of the LGBT community who continue to be criminalized despite marriage equality becoming the law of the land. #Lovewins is premised on a narrative of gay assimilation that seeks access to heteronormative formulations of love while #queerlovewins seeks to open up spaces for new types of love outside of a heteronormative framework. #Queerlovewins refuses mainstream narratives of the fundamental disposability of black and brown bodies and instead adopts an intersectional analysis that seeks to expose the injustices perpetuated by the white supremacist, patriarchal and capitalist relations of power of these dominant institutions.

One prominent example on #queerlovewins can be found in the AIDS advocacy work of ACT-UP in the 1980s and 1990s.  ACT-UP’s constituency included marginalized communities who were also disproportionately impacted by the AIDS crisis including gay men, people of color, sex workers and drug users. ACT-UP activists enacted #queerlovewins by refusing to accept individualistic narratives that placed the blame on individuals for their circumstances and instead focused their efforts on exposing the injustices perpetuated by institutions. This focus on institutional injustices included direct action campaigns that were meant to confront the institutions that were doing nothing to address the AIDS crisis. ACT-UP was often criticized for its confrontational approach–an approach that many found to be offensive.

Jennicet Gutierrez’s action is a modern example of #queerlovewins.  Like ACT-UP, Gutierrez spoke up for a population that is seen by many as disposable and deserving of their circumstances. She has forced us to confront the fact that while many in the LGBT community are celebrating #lovewins others in the LGBT community are dying because of the criminalization of their identities. She articulated an intersectional analysis that included advocacy for transgender people, immigrants and people of color. And she was chastised for being offensive in ways that either intentionally or unintentionally distract from her message.

To be clear, I am not suggesting that the actions of Jennicet Gutierrez were identical to the actions of ACT-UP activists. Each of them were responding to different circumstances and bringing attention to different issues with different tactics. What I am suggesting is that Gutierrez’s action can be understood as a continuation of #queerlovewins that has a long history within the LGBT community. Like in previous eras, this contemporary #queerlovewins is scorned by both mainstream society and the mainstream LGBT movement and offensive and disrespectful. Yet, when your very existence is offensive to mainstream society the only way possible for you to be heard is to offend.

Those of us committed to the liberation of all cannot be satisfied with #lovewins. We must, instead, fight so that #queerlovewins. #Queerlovewins when we are more offended by the brutalization and torture of transgender people in immigrant detention centers than we are by the pleas of a transgender immigrant trying to bring these injustices to the attention of the president. #Queerlovewins when we focus our energy on amplifying the message of the most marginalized members of our community rather than on criticizing the tactics they use to make their voices heard. And #queerlovewins wins when we bring attention to the political and economic conditions that are at the root of their marginalization in ways that resist their criminalization.

In my many years of experience as an educator it has been fairly common for me to hear people complaining about the grammar of their students. Occasionally, I will see educators share memes on Facebook and Twitter that list a particular pet peeve or make another statement related to the importance of grammar.

A meme that I saw shared a few months ago stood out to me: “I don’t judge people based on race, creed, colour or gender. I judge people based on spelling, grammar, punctuation and sentence structure.” This meme reflects a commonsense idea in mainstream society–that it is possible to separate judgments of appropriate language usage from judgments of race and other forms of social difference.

Below I provide three examples from my own life that indicate that separating language and race is not always so simple.

  1. At a recent conference I had 20 minutes to cover lots of information and I was trying to go as quickly as possible. The first question I received from the audience was from a White graduate student who was wondering why Latinos spoke so quickly. When I assured her that there was no evidence to suggest that Latinos spoke more quickly than any other racial or ethnic group her response was “Oh come on. You people speak way faster than we do.”
  2. At a recent professional development I facilitated one of the teachers objected to the idea that the “Spanglish” of her students could be used as a springboard for academic learning. She provided “rufo” as an example of the linguistic deficiency of “Spanglish” insisting that “techo” was the proper word for the inside roof and “azotea” for the outside roof. I explained that the emergence of terms like “rufo” were a natural part of language contact and that from a linguistic perspective neither term was more correct. She did not look convinced.
  3. One of my Chinese graduate students came to me frustrated at constantly receiving feedback that she should be more explicit in her analysis. She told me that she felt like this was a very American way of writing and my insistence on this contradict my stated philosophy of appreciation for linguistic diversity. In the conversation that ensued she told me how she felt overly targeted as an international student in a US university, as if professors were seeking to find flaws in her writing simply because they expected to find flaws since she was not a native-speaker of English.

In the first example, the audience member asking the question connected my  rushed presentation  with my Latino background. It would be hard to imagine her asking a White person rushing through a presentation why it was that White people spoke so quickly. Instead, she would likely assume that either the person had a lot to cover or that the person was an individual who spoke quickly but was certainly not representative of all White people.

In the second example, the stigma associated with Spanglish is not related to the linguistic practice that made the term rufo possible. After all, monolingual English speakers ordering tacos at a restaurant or discussing haciendas in history class are using words that were developed through the same process of language contact. The issue is not the fact that English and Spanish have impacted one another but rather the racial positioning of the speaker of the product of this language contact. The result is that “taco” and “hacienda” go unnoticed but “rufo” is marked as linguistically deficient.

In the third example, I (somebody who has worked with his students to challenge dominant ideologies reflected in the second scenario) is challenged for implicitly doing the very same thing that I critique others for doing. That is, linguistic theory has not made me immune from my own forms of prescriptivism that (at least according to my student) are a reflection of my American upbringing. She connected my criticism to the extra scrutiny she felt as an international student who professors assumed was not fully proficient in English. Was I complicit in this extra scrutiny? Did I find issues with her writing that I would not have seen as a problem if the writer were a US monolingual English speaker?

All three examples illustrate that language and race cannot be as neatly separated as conventional wisdom would posit. Therefore, while often discussed as separate objects of inquiry—meaning that one is a scholar of race or a scholar of language—I propose that we become raciolinguistic scholars. Raciolinguistic scholarship begins with the premise that it is, in fact, impossible to discuss one without the other and seeks to examine the co-construction of language and race—or the ways that both language and race are inextricably interrelated with one another. It seeks to examine the complex role that language ideologies play in the production of racial difference and the role of racialization in the production of linguistic difference.

For more information on raciolinguistics check out my new article with Jonathan Rosa “Undoing Appropriateness: Raciolinguistic Ideologies and Language Diversity in Education.” We welcome you to join us in developing raciolinguistics as a new field of inquiry.

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