Strength to Love

Despite its peculiar formulation, the fundamental question being asked is one worthy of consideration. By understanding the question more deeply, we are better suited to answer it.

Those of us interested in critical pedagogy seek a space for the development of our critical abilities to facilitate the change we wish to see in the world. Freedom School at the Intercultural Resource Center is emerging as such a space.

“Radical” should not be understood as a pejorative term. Rather, it should be understood as a reference to a rich political tradition rooted in the politics of love and the ethics of compassion.

Every Friday, about 30 Columbia-affiliated folks go to Rikers Island to teach imprisoned youth. By doing so, we have consciously united theory and practice into a praxis of love.

My fear is that dialogues around campus will continue to focus on an unquestioned fear of the Harlem community, particularly of black, brown, and poor folks.

The rage engendered in these contexts is a direct manifestation of my frustration with the audacity of white privilege and the white supremacist attitudes and behaviors that exhibit themselves in multiple, and sometimes shocking, ways on this campus.

I do not know. In fact, no one aside from Teachers College Professor Madonna Constantine will ever know whether or not she actually committed plagiarism. All we can do is make speculations based on evidence that has been provided to us.

I want to write about something deeply personal. I want to discuss my self-doubt and insecurity as an intellectual, feelings I am convinced that most of us at some point experience.

The difference between dialogue and debate is readily evident in the Columbia classroom. There, silencing is the primary barrier to dialogue.

In American society—one that is predicated on white­-supremacy, male dominance, and class exploitation—it is hard to love.