Mixed-Race Persons in the Classroom: Making the Invisible Visible

Rhett Jones is a professor of history and Africana studies.

by Rhet Jones

In Ralph Ellison’s “The Invisible Man,” the protagonist observes, “I am an invisible man, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.”

In the years since 1964 – when I taught my first college course – a lot of invisible people have become visible, among them lesbians, Latinos, Asian Americans, women, Native Americans, gays and African Americans. They became visible not because people suddenly saw them, but because they acted up and acted out, thereby demanding to be seen. One group, however, still remains largely invisible – persons of mixed race.

Race, class and gender have become buzzwords, routinely cited by administrators at many colleges who have little scholarly interest in the study of any of them, but understand they ought to appear in their curricula – as categories of thought. People of color now appear in photographs in college admissions brochures, even when it is necessary to stage them. Persons of mixed race ancestry are becoming more visible, but they are seldom identified in college public relations publications.

Mixed-race persons are invisible in most classrooms largely because many members of the professoriate, despite their commitment to the three buzzwords, “refuse to see” them. Yet miscegenation is tied to race, class and gender. The status of women is, for example, closely linked to the extent of miscegenation. Class, in turn, strongly impacts ideas about race, actual behavior toward persons of different races, and strategies adopted for refusing “to see” individuals of mixed-race ancestry. Race influences gender relations.

In the dynamics of the college classroom mixed-race persons differ from America’s traditional racial minorities in that they must voluntarily declare themselves. In my years as an undergraduate, before blacks became visible in scholarship, we were already, of course, visible in the classroom, both to our instructors (always white) and to our fellow students (almost always white). As awful things were routinely said about blacks, how one responded depended a great deal on whether another black person was present. The shared presence of another Afro-American encouraged one to speak out, believing one would have the support of at least one other person. Race mattered, and the visibility of race mattered especially.

Our students who are of mixed race are in a very different position. They are not visible. As stereotypes about them are bandied about, even in classes concerned with race, class and gender, they have to decide whether to declare themselves or remain silent, a dilemma faced by few Afro-Americans.

As teachers, we are also in a different position. My white professors of a generation ago could see one or two black undergraduates sitting in their classes and decide in their teaching how to handle (or ignore) this reality. But unless students of mixed race ancestry declare themselves, how is a professor to know? Of course, we can just pretend it doesn’t matter – lots of us do this – but it does.

At the very least faculty – particularly those who teach classes on race, class and gender – should be supportive of such students. We should make it clear that we recognize their existence and that they are visible.