I’ve been thinking today about Milton Burke, AP Literature teacher at Fayetteville High School, in Arkansas.
I had wanted so much to impress him; to receive his assurance that I was a good student; to earn an A in his class. But 4th hour was when the school resource officer always came to take me out of class for various interrogations about the abuse happening in my home. It annoyed Mr. Burke to be interrupted, but there was nothing either of us could do about it. I was embarrassed and thought he was annoyed at me. My grade suffered for my absence during those group discussions, too.
I went back one year to visit – before the schools were all locked down – and apologized to him for being such a bad student and disrupting his class so much.
He said, “I don’t remember you that way at all.”
I was shocked.
He didn’t remember me being the reason a police officer was always interrupting his lectures?
He didn’t remember me being a waste of his time, grading my C+ paper that I should have written better?
He remembered me as someone who wanted to learn.
He remembered me as someone with a lot of ambition, despite many setbacks I didn’t ask for.
He remembered me as curious and always looking at things from a different perspective.
He remembered wishing he could do more to help me get the tools – the education – I deserved as much as all the other kids.
That is the story he ratified about me.
This is when I learned that even direct, personal experience is always subject to being shaped by the power of what one truly believes.
In 2016, I co-led a training with Dr. Michele Andrasik for all-staff at HIV Prevention Trials Network (HPTN) & HIV Vaccine Trials Network. A clinician asked about how to deal with “combative” trans people; and she deserved a better, more intersectionally aware answer than I was yet equipped back then to give.
On the post survey, that person wrote that I had some issues I needed to work through to be a more effective trainer. That’s all that stuck with me.
I recently looked over those surveys again, though:
5/5 ratings, widely positive by the majority of attendees. Some 4s, and a few 3s in specific areas. Overall feedback from the audience at large was solid. They said they learned something new; felt better able to serve transgender people in their clinics; and had a better understanding of racialized histories’ impact on how people may feel about engaging with them in these clinics.
How did I manage to forget all the good they’d expressed in that feedback?
Over one foot-in-mouth moment that took up 1/90th of the whole training session?
This is a friendly reminder that while we do owe one another the courtesy of self-examination and being accountable when we mess up, we do not owe our Anxiety the convenience of ratifying whatever malicious story it wants us to believe about:
💖 Ourselves
💖 Our worth
💖 Our work performance
💖 Our potential
💖 The value of our contributions to others’ lives
Have grace for yourself.
The Front Porch 
Thank you for sharing! I honestly think most of us suffer greatly from our own bias against ourselves. Commonly I compare myself to others, and in all the wrong ways. I wish I had your writing ability, and your ability to help change our world for the better. I wish I was a better parent, that my projects didn’t languish like they do. So many half completed things staring at me currently. But I am doing my best to survive right now, while trying to help keep a household functioning, and raise a kiddo who has skills and abilities to survive in a world that’s hostile more often than not. I’m glad you had the opportunity to talk to your teacher years later, and learn how you were actually viewed. I don’t think too many of us get that opportunity.
I guarantee there are folks that look up to you, and hope for your approval as well. It’s a weird feeling, but I think you’re a very awesome role model.
Much love, Vash This email is brought to you by autocorrect and coffee.