In Philadelphia public schools, where I used to teach, African American History is not relegated to Black History Month, but is a required course for graduation alongside World History and U.S. History. Inevitably, teachers must respond to questions about the need for such a course, usually from a non-African American student or parent. Well, Azie Mira Dungey has created a perfect response in her
comedy web series, Ask a Slave. The short videos feature ignorant and insensitive questions from tourists to Lizzie Mae, George and Martha Washington's slave whom Dungey played as a historical actor at Mount Vernon. The videos are embellished re-enactments of real interactions Dungey had with tourists addressing her in character as a historical figure--that's a cool enough whirlwind of representation and reality to fuel a full class period's discussion in itself! But the real jumping off point for using this series in teaching and learning is at the intersections of race, gender and history.
The comedy comes in part from the facepalm-inducing outrageousness of the actual questions addressed to Dungey (as Lizzie Mae), and develops in the answers and looks she gives the camera to highlight the tourists' ignorance. So, the videos call out ignorance about history, but what else do they do? What do they say about our dominant historical narratives about our "founding fathers"? Is it even possible to respectfully address and ask questions of a slave? What knowledge, empathy and sensitivity would remedy the ignorance in the tourists' questions? What media messages and experiences could deliver such knowledge? The videos are ripe for media literacy analysis through the lens of race and gender representation, and they all suggest a need for historical knowledge that your learners could seek and create media to communicate. However, many other discussions need to happen around these videos, as well. For educators, is it harmful to the spirit of inquiry in your learning environment to show videos that shame people for asking questions? Can the portrayal of (mostly) White ignorance do more than instigate paralyzing White guilt and shame, and reactionary righteousness or dissmissiveness? Should we even consider humor as a part of educating about something as difficult, complex, and shameful as the historical institution of slavery? These are great questions for teacher education as well as media studies and social studies classes of high school or college students. But as with any good inquiry about race and representation, it won't be easy.