racism and schools

There are now too few Asian teachers. Here’s why

Few Asian students choose to become teachers.

This is a lost opportunity to bridge the current diversity gap in the teaching workforce and a lost opportunity to address the concerning national teacher shortage. Ethnic minorities, including Asians, are caught in a vicious cycle of underrepresentation, where small numbers of existing ethnic minority teachers in Australia equates to difficulty attracting new ethnic minority teachers.

Asians are the fastest-growing ethnic group in Australia. They make up about one in six of the overall population. We don’t have specific data for Asian teachers and students but we know teachers from minority backgrounds, including Asians, account for only 4% of the P-12 teaching workforce in 2022. We also know there is increasing student racial diversity in schools. The result is a widening teacher-student racial parity gap.

Research has consistently captured the benefits of teacher-student racial-cultural-linguistic alignment. For instance, scholarship demonstrates a racially diverse teacher workforce contributes to minority student perceptions of schools as more welcoming places. It allows minority teachers to bring their own understanding of relevant cultural contexts, while also acting as role models for students from non-dominant backgrounds. 

Raising expectations

They may also enhance broader cultural awareness, diversify worldviews, raise expectations and tackle negative minority student stereotypes

Research shows that they are crucial in supporting student well-being, especially among academically vulnerable minority students. Minority teachers are instrumental in providing an equitable and inclusive education, ensuring that students from diverse backgrounds can have their needs and voices heard and understood in their schools.

Similar considerations apply to Asian students and teachers in Australia. For instance, many Asian students tend to be seen as a culturally homogeneous whole, and are consequently (unfairly) held to a one-size-fits-all expectation around linguistic ability and academic performance. 

These students often grapple with racial bias, discrimination, and lack of belonging in Australian schools. 

But Asian teachers can leverage cultural knowledge and community connections to support Asian students. They can also debunk stereotypes among non-Asian students and educate non-Asian colleagues. While we are not suggesting that Asian teachers represent a distinct typology of educators or that racial matching is always necessary, research has shown us that educators who understand the cultural and social dynamics that shape their students’ lives are best positioned to support their learning. Asian teachers help challenge current dominant white and monolingual racial stereotypes of teaching, thereby encouraging more Asian students to aspire to become teachers. 

There are a range of personal, cultural and structural barriers that contribute to this Asian underrepresentation in teaching. At the personal level, (racial) marginalisation in schools is still prevalent and causes minority students more broadly to perceive that the teaching profession is not for them. 

Impacts on belonging and safety

Student experiences of racism and discrimination impact a sense of belonging and safety. That’s been a barrier to wanting to work in schools. Those memories of being belittled by school staff cause negative self-concept and lower minority students’ confidence in future teaching abilities.

Cultural and parental influences can also discourage Asian youth from choosing teaching in favour of securing employment in high-status, and high-salary careers. Many Asian students come from families who have internalised the racially-driven ‘model minority’ status. They often face significant familial pressure that emphasises high academic achievement as a stepping stone to employability and financial security. Asian parents may encourage their children to focus on prestigious and high-paying jobs as a protective factor from discrimination in a white-dominated labour market.

Negative experiences within teacher education programs have led to premature attrition of minority preservice teachers. These include racism, marginalisation and negative stereotyping, leading to a feeling of not belonging. There are some underlying sources of bias that favour white preservice teachers, including privileging Western-centric views over minority knowledge and perspectives in teacher education curriculum. Moreover, studies have shown that minority preservice teachers are confronted with a disproportionate amount of race-related structural and institutional challenges in initial teacher education.

What we must do next

Some recommendations include increasing the number of minority teacher educators and creating an inclusive teacher preparation curriculum that reflects diversity to help attract and retain minority teacher candidates. Of course, this needs to first be grounded in formalised antiracist agendas within teacher education programs and at the institutional level. Similarly, beyond higher education, schools need to nip this problem in the bud by adopting a similar antiracist approach. Here, collective and coordinated support from school leadership, staff, and broader school communities is essential in rejecting racism and discrimination against Asian students and teachers.

Australian education research has remained relatively silent on Asian Australia despite the growing presence – and increasing importance – of Asian teacher and student populations alike. A growing body of scholarship is interrogating the racial-colonial discourses that impact this key stakeholder in Australian education.

Given the clear implications this discussion has for teacher attraction and retention as a means to improved (racial) equity in schools and higher education spaces, we contend that there is much that urgently needs to be done in this space.


Aaron Teo is a lecturer in curriculum and pedagogy at the University of Southern Queensland’s School of Education. He is convenor for the Australian Association for Research in Education Social Justice Special Interest Group. His research focusses on the raced and gendered subjectivities of migrant teachers from “Asian” backgrounds in the Australian context, as well as critical pedagogies in white Australian (university and school) classroom spaces.

Sun Yee Yip is a lecturer at the Faculty of Education at Monash University. Her research focuses on teacher knowledge development, teacher diversity and raising the status of teachers and the teaching profession.

Yes, the N-word is a problem in schools now. Is a blanket ban the answer?

Our African diaspora youth belonging project researchers (pictured in our header image): Melanie Baak, Mwangaza Milunga, Benjamin Grant-Skiba, Yahya Djomani Ousmane, Zamda Omba,  Habibat Ogunbanwo, Shaza Hamed, Elaine Ncube, Efon Luwala, Jeanne Munyonge

Nine youth researchers with varying connections to the African diaspora and one white settler had over 150 hours of conversations with African diaspora young people across Australia over two years. One issue arose repeatedly in nearly every conversation: the N-word.

Schools struggle with how to respond. For Afro-diasporic young people, it is part of their daily existence. Sometimes it’s a term of camaraderie and empowerment, other times harm and exclusion. 

Teachers, administrators, and students alike are searching for guidance on how to handle its use. Some advocate for a strict ban, such as Tebeje Molla.

But a blanket prohibition does not account for the complexities of Afro-diasporic identity and the multiple meanings the word holds. Banning is not an equitable response. And it’s not effective. We argue schools must engage in deeper, more nuanced conversations about race, history, and power.

The N-Word and Black Identity in Australia

To understand the N-word’s significance in Australian schools, we must first grapple with what it means to be Black in Australia. The etymology of the word, after all, stems from the Latin for ‘black’. 

The term is tied to the history of transatlantic slavery and Black resistance in the US. But Blackness in Australia is shaped by different historical and migration narratives. The controversial theme for the 1987 NAIDOC week was ‘White Australia has a Black history’,  to recognise the long, proud history of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples on this continent and reference the lack of acknowledgement of atrocities committed against Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.  

This history of Blackness is important to think about settler Blackness, i.e. racialized migrant groups such as those from the African diaspora. 

The first African-diasporic settlers arrived in 1788 with the First Fleet. By 1840, approximately 500 people of African descent lived in the colony. Awareness of this Afro-diasporic history is limited. The focus is on the increase in African migration through humanitarian and skilled visa pathways since the 1990s.

This lack of historical recognition complicates the ways young people of African descent construct their identities in Australian schools today. Many participants in our study described feeling in-between. They didn’t feel they belonged as Australian. They also felt disconnected from the cultural traditions and identities of their parent’s generation. For many, global Black culture, through music and social media, is an important part of making sense of their own experiences of racialisation in Australia and the world.  The N-word is part of this global Black culture. It is a word that carries deep pain, yet also one reclaimed as a marker of solidarity.

Why a Blanket Ban is Not the Answer

In his recent EduMatters article, Molla argues schools should implement a ban on the N-word, suggesting that such a policy would protect Black students from harm and ensure a safe, supportive learning environment. While we do not deny the significant historical violence tied to the word, we offer some reflections specifically relating to the call for a blanket ban.

Schools already recognize fairness does not mean treating all students the same. Equitable approaches require context-specific responses—whether in uniform policies for religious or gender diversity or accommodations for students with disabilities. The same principle should apply to language. The N-word is not just another offensive term like “f**k”; it carries deep historical and cultural significance. Yes, it is rooted in oppression. But it is also reclaimed by certain Black communities as a term of camaraderie and identity.

Does it undermine consistency?

Molla argues allowing Black students to use the N-word undermines consistency in anti-racism policies and may inadvertently normalise its use. However, a strict ban ignores the complexities of race, history, and linguistic reclamation. Instead of prohibition, schools should facilitate conversations about why certain words carry power and who has the right to use them.

The duality of the N-word—both harmful and reclaimed—creates confusion, particularly among non-Black students who encounter it in the media but may not grasp its history. Some, including South Asian and Pacific Islander youth, adopt it casually, assuming shared racial proximity. Others mimic pop culture without understanding its significance. This leads to tensions, as some Black students permit its use while others oppose it. The confusion is trivialised in some cases: such as students “selling” N-word passes to their peers.

Schools must acknowledge racism is not only perpetuated by white students. Afro-diasporic students in our study have reported racial slurs from South Asian, Middle Eastern, and other non-Black peers who either misunderstand or intentionally weaponize the N-word. Simply banning the word does little to address these underlying racial dynamics.

Context matters

The meaning and effect of the  N-word shifts depending on who is using it, in what context, and for what purpose. A blanket ban erases these complexities. It does not teach students why the word carries power or how racialized language operates within broader systems of oppression. Instead, it risks further alienating Black students (or even more concerningly giving teachers further reason to disproportionately discipline them) who use the word as part of their cultural lexicon while doing little to address the systemic racism they experience in schools.

Context matters. While teachers and non-Black students should never use the word, an outright ban for all students is neither equitable nor enforceable.  Educators need to distinguish between its use as a slur and its use among Black students as a term of identity or solidarity. Afro-diasporic youth should be able to define their own identities in their own terms, without those who’ve caused harm policing its use.

Who Enforces the Ban? And Whose Discomfort Matters?

A key question often overlooked in debates about banning the N-word is: Who is the ban really for?

Many Black students in our study have reported being told to “just ignore” racial slurs directed at them. Schools are historically slow to act on anti-Black racism. And Black students are often made to feel that their experiences of discrimination are not taken seriously. Yet, when students start using the N-word—whether through ignorance, mimicry of pop culture, or intentional harm—schools suddenly rush to impose strict prohibitions. 

This pattern reflects broader institutional tendencies to act only when white discomfort is at stake. If a school that has ignored Black students’ complaints about racism suddenly bans the N-word because teachers or white students find it uncomfortable or difficult to manage, it raises the question: Whose harm and discomfort are being prioritized?

Moving Beyond Bans: A More Nuanced Approach

  1. Prioritise education over prohibition.
  2. Address racism in schools holistically.
    • Ensure policies tackling racial slurs do not ignore broader systemic racism.
    • Create clear mechanisms for addressing anti-Black racism beyond policing language.
  3. Recognise cultural spaces and self-expression.
    • Acknowledge in-group language exists in all communities.
    • Words change meaning, depending on the user. 
  4. Apply consistent standards of self-determination.
    • If schools respect LGBTQ+ students’ right to define pronouns and language, Black students should have the autonomy to navigate their own linguistic and cultural identities.

The conversation about the N-word in Australian schools is ultimately about more than just a word. It is about power, identity, and who gets to control the narrative of Blackness in this country. Schools must move beyond superficial bans and engage in meaningful, historically informed conversations about race, language, and belonging.

Schools should focus on fostering understanding and supporting students’ cultural identities. Policies addressing racism must be driven by the needs of those most affected—not by the discomfort of those in power. They should not impose blanket prohibitions that fail to account for nuance.

By prioritising education over censorship, schools can create spaces where Afro-diasporic youth feel seen, heard, and respected—not just disciplined into silence.

More about our researchers and our research

These researchers are at the University of South Australia. This research is supported by the Australian Government through the Australian Research Council (project DE230100249). The views expressed herein are those of the authors and are not necessarily those of the Australian Government or Australian Research Council.

Our researchers are: Melanie Baak, Mwangaza Milunga, Benjamin Grant-Skiba, Yahya Djomani Ousmane, Zamda Omba, Habibat Ogunbanwo, Shaza Hamed, Elaine Ncube, Efon Luwala, Jeanne Munyonge. They are pictured in our page header. How long did it take? Over two years.
Here’s more on the research team. It’s a collaboration between a white settler of Anglo-European heritage and nine youth co-researchers with varying connections to the African diaspora. They have engaged in over 150 hours of conversations with African diaspora young people across Australia.

Through peer interviews, Zoom discussions, and in-person workshops, we explored questions of belonging and identity. We also explored the challenges Afro-diasporic youth navigate in school settings.

In 2024, we extended this work by collaborating with 13 teachers across three secondary schools in year-long action research projects aimed at enhancing belonging for African diaspora students in their schools.

This is why schools should ban the N-word now

The N-word is hateful. No good comes from a bad word.  Schools are entrusted with the responsibility of nurturing safe, supportive, and equitable learning environments. This cannot be fully achieved if harmful language is allowed to persist unchecked. Schools should ban the use of this derogatory word.  

Many Australians take pride in living in a prosperous multicultural society, cherishing values of fairness and equality. I eagerly want to share this optimism, but the lived realities of many marginalised communities tell a more complex story. 

The Australian Human Rights Commission reported that people with culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds continue to face racial prejudice and discrimination. According to the latest Scanlon Report on Social Cohesion in Australia, nearly two-thirds of respondents said racism is a big problem. 

My research, along with that of others, reveals  racial slurs directed at African-heritage students are widespread in Australian schools. The prevalence and normalisation of the N-word within school environments raises important questions about the responsibility of educational institutions to promote respectful communication and ensure safe learning spaces for all students.

The N-word is not just a word. It is a historical relic of dehumanisation. The N-word “should be odious to anyone.” As an African-heritage Australian educational researcher, I understand the damaging impact of negative racial representation on school engagement and outcomes. I have written about racial Othering and its negative impact

Here are four key reasons why schools should prohibit the use of the N-word by all students.

The historical weight of the term is too heavy to bear

Although the N-word originated as a neutral descriptor of colour, over time, it took on a derogatory connotation. Born out of the dehumanising practices of slavery and colonialism, the word was explicitly constructed to degrade and diminish the humanity of Black people—to inflict violence on Black psyches. 

Its continued use perpetuates the weight of generational trauma, serving as a painful reminder of historical injustices while reinforcing racial hierarchies. 

Schools, as spaces of learning and inclusion, must reject the presence of such harmful language. The banning of the N-word is, therefore, a moral imperative to uphold the dignity, safety, and wellbeing of all students.

The use of the N-word in schools normalises racism

Language can perpetuate stereotypes, prejudices, and injustices. The use of the N-word in educational settings, regardless of the speaker’s racial identity, risks perpetuating division and exclusion, undermining efforts to create a safe and welcoming space for all students. 

When used within educational spaces, the term creates a hostile environment. It undermines the sense of belonging and safety for racialised students, particularly those of African descent. Research by Tatum and others shows repeated exposure of Black students to racial slurs in classroom materials can normalise casual racism among their peers. 

Using the N-word as a racial slur is more than just offensive. It is a deliberate attempt to dehumanise and diminish the person targeted. The message is clear: your identity and individuality are irrelevant, and you are unworthy of respect. In a just society, such dehumanisation has no place.

What derogatory racial epithets in the curricula do to students

In Australia, texts like Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mockingbird feature in high school English language units. These texts include the N-word and other racial stereotypes. In an ongoing national research project, I documented how African-heritage students experienced these portrayals as deeply disrespectful and alienating. 

Drawing from his experience in a Year 9 English class, one secondary school student reflected on a troubling double standard that reinforces racial insensitivity in the classroom:

When it comes to sexual slurs, they bleep them out; they don’t say them. But when it comes to the N-word [in the text], they’re so quick to say it, which really confuses me. What sense does it make for a White person to say the N-word [out loud]? This type of stuff can really stop Black students from wanting to go on to university.

Alienation, anxiety and diminished self-worth

Exposure to racial slurs in the curricular materials has adverse psychological effects on racialised students. This  includes feelings of alienation, anxiety, and diminished self-worth. In my study, students reported that being called the N-word by both teachers and peers deeply undermined their sense of belonging and engagement at school. They stressed that, regardless of intent, the term created feelings of discomfort and exclusion.

Before introducing such texts, teachers should explicitly inform students about the presence of offensive language. They should identify the specific term and its context within the material. Teachers should also briefly explain the term’s historical background, its harmful impact, and the rationale for its inclusion in the text. They should emphasise that while studying the text, the term will not be spoken or read aloud by anyone in the classroom. 

Without proper contextualisation, those texts could reinforce stereotypes and further alienate students of African heritage. When students are exposed to racial slurs without proper contextualisation, some non-Black students are likely to feel emboldened to use the term, often without understanding its historical significance or the damage it causes to their racialised peers. 

Permitting Black students to use the N-word challenges consistency in enforcing anti-racism rules

The question of who has the right to use the N-word is divisive and contentious. Some argue that banning the use of the term denies Black students the agency to reclaim and reappropriate a word historically weaponised against them. 

Others, including scholars and public figures, reject its use entirely, regardless of who says it. I agree. As Randall Kennedy says: “There is no compelling justification for presuming that black usage of nigger is permissible while white usage is objectionable.” 

In fact, if a substance was once used as a poison to harm your ancestors, taking that same substance from your own hand does not make it any less harmful.

Allowing African-heritage students to use the N-word in schools creates inconsistencies in enforcing anti-racism policies. Teachers and administrators would be required to navigate the tension between respecting cultural practices and upholding a zero-tolerance stance against racial slurs. This creates ambiguity, as the term’s use by African-heritage students may inadvertently normalise it, inviting non-Black students to appropriate it or use it provocatively.

Research shows that a consistent and unambiguous approach to addressing racism is critical in creating safe and inclusive educational environments. A universal prohibition of the use of the N-word eliminates ambiguity and ensures consistency in enforcing anti-racism policies, providing a clear framework for teachers and students alike.

The broader challenge lies in striking a balance between upholding individual rights to self-expression and fostering communal standards of respect and inclusion. While racialised students may perceive their use of the N-word as an act of cultural or personal empowerment, its presence in school settings can inadvertently normalise racism.

Racism should be unequivocally unacceptable

In Australia, race is a legally protected attribute so the use of racial slurs in schools should be unequivocally unacceptable. Recent anti-racist initiatives, including the National Anti-Racism Framework and Victoria’s Anti-Racism Strategy, aim to foster a more inclusive and harmonious society. Schools are uniquely positioned to play a pivotal role in this effort.

Prohibitive laws play a role in addressing the issue but are not a complete solution. Raising awareness is essential. Teachers must develop racial literacy to navigate these issues effectively, students should be guided to become respectful and empathetic citizens, and parents need to engage in timely and thoughtful discussions with their children about the significance and impact of racist language.

Tebeje Molla is a senior lecturer in the School of Education, Deakin University. His research areas include student equity, teacher professional learning, and policy analysis. His work is informed by critical sociology and the capability approach to social justice and human development.

Students love to complain about women and people of colour – their teachers. Here’s what happens next.


Any minute, your university students will get an email with a link. That link leads to one of the most dire tools of university performance, the evaluations of course content  and teaching quality.

These evaluations are meant to provide feedback to enhance course design and teaching methods. However, for several decades research has shown that despite the questions being asked, the factors influencing students’ responses have a minimal amount to do with either the course or teaching quality. 

They are instead shaped by student demographics, prejudice towards the teaching academic, and biases shaped by the classroom and university setting.

Despite the clear flaws underpinning the data student evaluations collect, universities continue to use this data as a measure of an academic’s teaching performance. Evaluation results influence an academic’s likelihood of being hired on a continuing basis for contract and sessional staff, receiving promotions for existing staff, and being fired or managed out during staff restructures.

This is a flawed method of evaluating people and it raises questions of why the sector continues to use student evaluations. But the negative impact is complicated further by the fact that we know evaluations impact on different groups of academics to different degrees. The groups impacted the most are the groups the academy declares to value, hopes to protect, and claims to have an interest in fostering their careers.

I recently completed a study where I reviewed the findings of existing research about student evaluations of courses and teaching. The paper, Sexism, racism, prejudice, and bias: a literature review and synthesis of research surrounding student evaluations of courses and teaching, found that across studies covering more than 1,000,000 student evaluations, it is clear that women are at a disadvantage compared to men.

Different studies suggest the disadvantage can vary in size, and is highly dependent on disciplinary area, student demographics and other factors, but across the board, women are judged more harshly than men. At the extreme, this means women are more likely to fail evaluations than men, and researchers have routinely cited examples of more capable and higher performing women receiving lower scores than their less capable male counterparts. These results predictably mean women fare worse in job applications and promotions, and has been cited as a reason why women are represented less in the professoriate, and fill fewer leadership positions.

The same is true of factors such as race, gender, sexual identity, disability, language and other marginalising characteristics. Studies in different locations across more than two decades of solid research continually find that if an academic is not a white, English speaking, male in the approximately 35-50 year old age group and who students perceive to be able-bodied and heterosexual, this will result in some form of lower evaluation result. The negative repercussions of these results are also cumulative; a woman will receive lower results, and a person with a visible disability will receive lower, so a woman with a visible disability is likely to be treated extra harshly in the evaluations of her course and teaching.

What also cannot be ignored is that as a majority of the existing data originates from large-scale quantitative surveys, repeatedly researchers have noted that the rates of people within the sector who are disabled, identify as LGBTIQA+, people of colour, are refugees or immigrants, or a part of other marginalised groups are so underrepresented in the higher education sector that they do not count as a valid sample size.

At the broadest level, multiple studies showed that evaluation results can be impacted by disciplinary area and assessment type. Several studies have shown that academics in the sciences and associated fields receive lower evaluation results than their counterparts in the humanities and social sciences. Similarly, it has been noted that academics whose courses use essays and presentations for assessment fare better than those who rely on exams.

Institutional factors that have nothing to do with the class, or the academic teaching the class, have also been cited as reasons an academic will receive a lower evaluation score. Lower results can be given because of the class scheduling, class location, classroom design, class cleanliness, library facilities, and even the food options available on campus; all factors beyond the control of the academic teaching the class.

Official university responses to why they continue to carry out student evaluations when evaluations are so flawed and prejudiced towards the sector’s most vulnerable groups are rare. Existing studies suggest universities need data about course content, teaching quality, and student satisfaction, and student evaluations are the most cost and time effective method of gaining this information. In the past, perhaps the lack of data around evaluations was enough to convince institutions that a method of data collection that was seemingly not perfect was still acceptable due to the data that could be obtained rather quickly and easily. 

Considering what we know in 2021, time and cost effectiveness are not good enough reasons to continue a flawed practice that so blatantly discriminates against the sector’s women and those from marginalised groups.

Dr Troy Heffernan is Lecturer in Leadership at La Trobe University. His research examines higher education administration and policy with a particular focus on investigating the inequities that persist in the sector.

Racism in Australian schools: here’s new research that can help your school deal with it

Most Australians think multiculturalism is good for Australia and only a very small percentage believe racism is a problem. According to the 2015 Scanlon Report 86% of Australians think multiculturalism has been good for Australia while only 1.5% think racism is a problem.

Yet, if we are to believe recent news reports, race hate among school students in Australia is on the rise, particularly through social media and on-line. Certainly around 70% of Australian school students have experienced some form of racism, ranging from verbal comments to violence, and 67% of these incidents have been at school.

So who do young people believe is responsible for racism?

We examined this issue in focus groups with Year 7-10 high school students as part of larger research project Doing Diversity: Intercultural Understanding in primary and secondary schools.

Almost all students said they’d been ‘taught to accept’ that Australia is a ‘very multicultural society’ and that ‘we’re all alike, yet we’re different’. All children said they were anti-racist and that racism ‘just shouldn’t happen, it’s disgusting’.

Nevertheless, students also said that racism was a problem in Australia. They attributed responsibility for racism to one of five factors.

  1. Racism is normal. Racism is a ‘fact of nature’, a universal characteristic of all humans, and ‘inevitable’. Attributing responsibility for racism in this way removes it from the possibility of human intervention: ‘you can’t control it; ‘you can’t stop it’; ‘you can’t get away from it’. For these children, it didn’t matter what teachers or schools did, stopping racism was ‘not going to happen’.
  2. It’s the racist bully. The idea that one type of individual, the racist bully, is responsible for racism is widely promoted in anti-bullying and anti-racism programs in Australia and internationally. Assigning all responsibility for racism to the ‘racist bully’, however, removes the responsibility of others to recogniseand reform how their own attitudes and behaviours contribute to racism. For example, through subtle acts of exclusion, as bystanders who ignore racist incidents, or through social practices and structures that discriminate and disadvantage different ethnic and cultural groups.
  3. It’s ethnic minorities who don’t assimilate. Ethnic minorities who fail to adopt national social and cultural norms were seen to be responsible for racist behaviour. It is okay to maintain language and ‘other multicultural stuff’ (food, dress, dances) but practices that were unfamiliar and foreign to the social majority should be abandoned (such as the burka and polygamy). This was because ‘if you’re going to come to Australia…you’re going to have to follow, kind of, our way’. Ethnic groups that did not modify their own behaviour were responsible for any racism that resulted from failing to comply.
  4. Whites are the real victims. Students insisted that racism is ‘not a good thing’ but denied any individual or collective responsibility for racism by the ‘white culture’. The argument is that whites are the real victims of racism because most accusations of racism were untrue or unreasonable, and this put an unfair burden on whites to alter their behaviour to avoid allegations of racism. This inverted racism attributes responsibility to the historical victims of racism.
  5. We’re all responsible. Racism is seen as a mutual responsibility for everyone. Students used humourous, racialised nicknames as an example. It was OK, they said, to call a Greek-Australian friend ‘Souvlaki’ and an Indian friend ‘Curry’ because this was an accepted, cultural practice in Australia: ‘that’s just how we live today, like, in our society’. But everyone was responsible for ensuring that their jokes were ‘funny’ and did not cause ‘hurt’ for managing their responses: ‘it only hurts if you let it…you’ve got to not let it get to you’. In short, this view attributed all individuals with equal responsibility for managing their attitudes, behaviours and responses to prevent racism.

Australia is a nation of immigrants. Ensuring that it is also a tolerant nation means that we have to help future generations in our schools view racism as an individual as well as a collective responsibility. Our research can be of use to Australian schools and school systems as they help create a genuinely anti-racist, multicultural nation.

 

ChrisHalseProfessor Christine Halse is Chair in Education, School of Education, Faculty of Arts & Education at Deakin University. Christine was President of the Australian Association for Research in Education from 2011 to 2012. Her research interests include Sociology of Education, Social and Cultural effects of curriculum and policy, Doctoral Education, and Ethics in Research and Education Practice.

 This blog is based on an article published in Discourse: Cultural Studies in the Politics of Education as part of special issue on Responsibility and Responbilisation, edited by Christine Halse, Catherine Hartung and Jan Wright.

Christine Halse is presenting at the at the 2015 AARE conference in Fremantle, Western Australia, this week.