We teach multicultural and social justice education courses to predominantly White, female student teachers. In these courses, we have noticed a common inability among our students to recognize themselves as racially located. In an attempt to guide our students to “see” race, we have relied on an assumption that they recognize their gendered location, and can draw upon it to break out of a colorblind discourse on race. This analysis is our attempt to understand our students’ inability to examine how gender oppression influences their lives. We describe how our students locate gender oppression in the archetypal “ Muslim Woman” and suggest that this locating reinscribes the relations of inequity that we as teacher educators are trying to ameliorate.
We teach multicultural and social justice education courses to predominantly White, female student teachers. In these courses, we have noticed a common inability among our students to recognize themselves as racially located. For example, while they often acknowledge growing up in all-White neighbourhoods and attending virtually all-White schools, they simultaneously insist that they have never received any social messages about race other than those of human equality. While we understand that “colourblind” ideology is embedded in dominant culture and expect to address it in our discussions, we are repeatedly stymied in our attempts. The large body of scholarly evidence we present in class on how everyday, “unremarkable” racial patterns are historical, deliberate, and profoundly shape our racial perspectives, is unconvincing to many of our students. Our pedagogy is guided by the principles of multicultural education, which posit that teacher practice must reflect an understanding of how group memberships (such as race, class, gender, and ability) grant differential degrees of access to social and institutional power. We have therefore been challenged to explore alternative strategies for facilitating student engagement with the scholarly evidence. One strategy we have used to guide them to “see” race has relied on an assumption that they recognize their gendered locations and can draw upon gender to break out of a colourblind discourse (Schofield, 2004). Our goal is to connect them to the lived experience they have of both privilege and oppression in their multiple social locations. In doing so, we hope to take a location in which they experience oppression (gender) as a point of analysis that may be useful to them in understanding a location in which they experience privilege (race). However, this strategy also frequently falls flat. Although our students do acknowledge that sexism exists in the world, they locate it as outside of themselves, and in fact, outside of “the West” as a whole. The most frequently cited location for sexism by our students is the Middle East in general and Islam in particular. This article is our heuristic approach to examining this process of relocation through the specific example of “The Muslim Woman.” We suggest that this relocation actually reinscribes the very relations of inequity that we as teachers are trying to ameliorate.
The most common response we hear from our students when we propose sexism as a potential point of analysis of racism is: “But I’ve never experienced sexism... my mother [father/ parents] told me I could be and do anything I wanted.” Although statements such as these can often be interpreted as resistance, we see them as also illustrative of a conceptual block that prevents students from seeing the ways in which broader relations of social and institutional power are held in place: Individualism. This block is evident in the examples above regarding racism and sexism: (1) Oppression occurs in discrete moments and isolated incidences in which an individual does or does not commit an oppressive act; (2) Individuals and their families are unaffected by broader institutional forces of socialization such as school, media, religion, and economics.
However, while we have observed both a lack of knowledge and interest in critically analyzing sexism in our female students’ own lives, we have noticed in the current political climate, an interest and proficiency in their analysis of how sexism operates in Muslim womens’ lives. In fact, “The Muslim Woman” functions for these students as the archetypal oppressed woman in stark contrast to their own perceived liberation. Indeed, their denial of sexism as a socializing force in their lives is frequently supported by a follow-up example of the Muslim woman as the woman who is truly oppressed. From these observations, we began to document the particular narratives these students used to support the discourse of their liberation.
These examples have been gathered over a three-year period and inform our initial attempt to understand this phenomenon: what is the function of our White female students’ minimization of their own gender oppression on the one hand, and their exaggeration of Muslim women’s gender oppression on the other? Class discussions, exercises, and our interviews with White female student teachers about racism and sexism are the sources for the examples presented here. These examples have led us to conclude that by accessing their popular knowledge3 about Muslim women, our White female student teachers deny their own gender oppression. In so doing, these women align themselves with White maleness, elevating themselves as most particularly White women outside of a gendered location.
In the current global context and preoccupation with learning about Islam framed as “understanding religious diversity,” we see a particularly clear example of how knowledge is constructed to reinscribe mainstream ideologies of race and gender. This familiar narrative as presented in popular culture has these formative elements: The Muslim woman, long under the oppression of the backward Arab/ Muslim male, has had to endure the primitive practice of veiling, which results in the unequivocal limiting of her physical and psychological rights and freedoms. If she refuses to veil, she will be subjected to various degrees of humiliation, punishment, torture, and possibly death. All Arab/Muslim women are mistreated by violent Arab/Muslim men, and women in the Arab and Muslim world are in general being abused (Shaheen, 2001). This narrative, with minor variations, has been a dominant element of Western knowledge about the status of Muslim women since the 18 th century (Kahf, 1999). Parallel to this story of mistreatment and abuse is the story of hyper-sexuality and eroticism associated with Arab and Muslim women (Steet, 2000). Images of Afghani women in burqas and belly dancing seductresses co-exist (examples range from the infamous “green-eyed girl” from the National Geographic cover to the “I Dream of Jeannie” and “Princess Jasmine” characters from popular media).
There are three key and intersecting components we have observed with our student teachers in their construction of the Muslim woman as oppressed: binary oppositions, the myopic gaze, and the investment in the binary. These components result in the phenomenon of locating oppression as outside of their own lives and located instead in the lives of Muslim women. In the following section we describe each of these components, present some of the images we have used with our student teachers, and analyze a selection of statements made by our students in response to these images.
Binary Oppositions
A primary way in which mainstream Western society constructs meaning is through binary frameworks. These binaries function as non-permeable dividers. Binaries serve to orient social subjects to status and meaning. For example man/ woman; black/ white; east/ west; liberated/ oppressed; civilized/ savage; pretty/ ugly; and happy/ sad. In Western culture, there is an overarching binary imposed over the overall framework: good/ bad. In the above examples, someone acculturated in Western society can immediately identify which side of the dynamic is good or bad. Major binaries can also branch off into what could be conceptualized as sub-binaries. In the binary man/woman, we can isolate the first half, “man” and identify other binaries within it such as rich man/ poor man. This indicates not only that man is preferable to woman, but also the kinds of men who are preferable to other kinds of men. When White female preservice teachers look to the Muslim woman as Other, the binary they invoke is not that of man/ woman, it is that of western woman/ non-western woman (our kind of women/ their kind of women). In other words, what is seen is not the opposite of man, i.e. woman, it is the opposite of their White selves: liberated/ oppressed; modern/ primitive; active/ passive; individual/ group; industrious/ idle; pretty/ ugly; open/ covered; free/ restricted. Many preservice teachers establish hierarchical binaries in their evaluation of the lives and experiences of Muslim women. As Ong (2001) states, when Western women, “…look overseas they frequently seek to establish their authority on the backs of non-western women, determining for them the meanings and goals of their lives” (p. 108). Although this gaze potentially provides a rich site of reflection for White women on their own parallel relation to Western manifestations of patriarchy, the White women we teach consistently choose to align their gaze with Whiteness, illustrating the power of racial solidarity to trump potential gender alliances. (As we challenge the binary constructions that inform our students’ evaluations, we are simultaneously aware that we ourselves are accountable to Ong’s challenge – determining someone else’s oppression. However as White women who share our students’ cultural context, we have had to wrestle with the same critical self-reflection we ask of them).
Figure 14
Figure 1 is a cogent visual illustration of the particular binary we are addressing here – the oppressed woman versus the liberated White U.S. woman. On the left half of the picture we have the Muslim woman, as signified by the veil. This veil, her makeup, and her features are thick and dark. These are signifiers of non-White ethnicity. Her mouth is closed and her positioning and gaze, as well as the text under her chin imply constraint and silence. These signs convey her story. In stark contrast is the right side of the photo. Here, the model’s makeup had been naturalized and her skin lightened. The veil has been replaced by a white shirt and a baseball cap, a classic symbol of “ America.” She is active and in motion; Her mouth is wide open and smiling, signaling voice and freedom. Beside her is an American flag, the ultimate sign of Whiteness, Christianity and liberty. Moving from the left to the right, she has been transformed into the “all American girl.” It isn’t insignificant that in Western culture we read from left to right, the same direction that represents evolution, advancement, and modernity. This photo is a particularly explicit illustration of the narrative and the binaries embedded within it. And indeed when we have shown this photo to White female student teachers, we find that they consistently focus their attention on the left half of the binary, and in so doing position the right as familiar, neutral and unremarkable. This is a classic example of the dynamics of Other-ing; the norm remains unmarked while it functions as the reference point from which to assess the Other.
Figure 25
The following are examples of the narrative that consistently surfaces in response to Figure 1 and other images of women wearing veils and burqas, such as Figure 2. These images are among a range that we use in class discussions and activities on media and representation. Below are some of our White female students’ responses to these particular images.
When prompted to say more about what they see, common narratives surface. Below are some examples of the binary narratives that appear to inform our students’ knowledge about Muslim women’s lives. In these examples, we can see several key and interconnected binaries including: the individual vs. the group, restricted vs. free, safe vs. dangerous, and modern vs. backward.
These excerpts illustrate how White women continually invoke what we will refer to as the left side of the oppressed/liberated binary in their narratives about Muslim women. Discourses of simplicity, passivity, backwardness, lack of choice, conformity, sexual control and repression emerge repeatedly. Their unmarked reference point allows these women to disavow themselves from any critical reflection on their own relationship to patriarchy. This move rejects the opportunity to examine parallels in how conformity in dress, restrictions of movement, unequal pay, and limits in reproductive choice manifest in their own lives as women. For example, how do multinational corporations and their connections to media, regulate the uniformity of U.S. women’s dress? How do the pornography, music and music video industries, and advertising narrowly define women’s sexuality for them? How do both real and fictitious depictions of women as victims in news and in film restrict women’s daily movements and dictate the rules that we live by? Why is it that the Equal Rights Amendment, first proposed in 1923, is still not part of the U.S. constitution in a society in which women still earn an average of 78 cents or less for every dollar that men receive6? What does it mean to live in a society in which, for example, Viagra is covered by most insurance companies but birth control for women is not?7 What are the gender, race, religious, and class make up of the history of the presidency of the United States? And what is the likelihood that this make-up will change in their lifetimes?
The following statement, made by one of our White female student teachers in response to Figure 2, cogently encapsulates several dynamics underlying these contradictions:
Several noteworthy dynamics operating in this statement serve to confirm the narrative of the oppressed woman. The woman is positioned as “having to” wear dark colors—she has no choice. For if she did have a choice, it is assumed she would choose not to wear dark colors, and further is expected to prefer the same color that this student does. The West and Western cultural norms guide this student’s reference point while they simultaneously remain unmarked. These norms are the lenses through which she evaluates what is natural and preferred. A second dynamic equates choice with individual agency, because in mainstream Western society, choice is among the key indicators of individuality. For example, in offering an alternative “choice” to dark colors, this student chooses pink, the most stereotypically gendered color in mainstream Western culture. However, this choice is positioned as a function of her individuality and free will rather than her embeddedness within her culture’s gendered norms of dress. Another dynamic that is operating in this statement is that of status: who is accountable to whom? When this student teacher says, “I want to know why” she positions the Muslim woman as accountable to the Western woman. This student’s statement does not convey an interest in understanding the social norms that guide the Muslim woman’s life and choices, but rather demands an explanation. Not only is the Muslim woman accountable to the Western woman, but by “having to” conform to restrictions imposed upon her, she is also accountable to forces outside of herself; one may assume that these forces are male. In this way, she is further denied agency and thus serves as the ultimate counter to the image of Western female liberation.
By portraying Muslim women as oppressed in contrast to themselves, our White female student teachers deny their own gender oppression. They assume legitimacy in evaluating patriarchy’s affects in Muslim women’s lives, while unable to demonstrate an ability to evaluate its affects in their own. Notably, these evaluations are made within the context of institutions in which a majority-female student teacher population is trained by a majority-male faculty how to do a “female job.” By not engaging with tensions such as these, White female student teachers pass up a rich opportunity for critical reflection as well as a moment in which to connect with “third world” women. This connection might more authentically signal their concern for Muslim women. In positioning third world women as their Other, they conceal their own gendered location and align themselves with Whiteness, normalizing Western patriarchy.
In the previous section, we explored how our students use binary frameworks to organize concepts about oppression. In this section we will focus on the relationship between these concepts and the veil as the marker that stands in for them. We will show how the veil is used to construct a narrow story about Muslim women’s “oppression,” and simultaneously White women’s “liberation.”
A second element in the narrative of “ Muslim woman as oppressed” is what we refer to as the myopic gaze. This element is prompted by particular markers that confirm a narrow storyline about Muslim women’s lives. These markers have no inherent meaning; they are signs that require interpretation. For example, a photograph of a veiled woman contains an iconic representation of the veil. The image (or the word “veil”) stands in for the actual, three-dimensional thing, as well as for concepts associated with it. Thus the visual image triggers a series of concepts that render it meaning within a particular cultural context (Hall, 2003).
In the case of the veil, the ethnic appearance of the person wearing it, its color, and the religious iconography that may surround it all trigger different sets of cultural concepts. For example, from a mainstream Western perspective, a black veil might trigger concepts such as religious fundamentalism, mourning, and seclusion. But a black veil on a White woman (such as Mother Theresa), might trigger concepts such as sacrifice, Catholicism, and social justice. A white veil might trigger concepts about marriage, virginity, and “true” love. A veil along with a bared midriff might evoke ideas about seduction, eroticism, and entertainment. Note through these examples that the veil is highly gendered.
Figure 38
A cogent example of the relationship between the veil and the story can be illustrated through this infamous photo of the “green-eyed girl” from the cover of the National Geographic. The young woman in the photo is Sharbat Gula, she is approximately thirteen at the time of the photo. Although most people are familiar with her image, indeed it has been reproduced in mediums ranging from posters, billboards, murals, flyers, to the cover of a psychology textbook, no one we have asked thus far has known her name. This is not surprising, as she remains unnamed in virtually every instance in which her image is used. This is a noteworthy omission that is in itself an indicator of her value as a Muslim woman, and the role Western society plays in the construction of the very discourses that limit Muslim women’s lives. As is evident in the photo, her face is uncovered. Although her eyes convey a startled look by Western cultural cues, the common explanation for that startled look is telling. It is typically attributed to, “the dangerous conditions of her life as a woman in Muslim society,” rather than to the anger she felt at having her photo taken by a strange man (Newman, 2002).
The following comment, which typifies what we frequently hear, was made by a White female student teacher in response to the question, “If you can remember, what were some of the first things you learned or saw about Islam?”
The primary marker being used to tell this story is what is referred to as “a scarf on her head.” Even with very little contextual evidence, this marker sets off a narrative that is highly detailed at the same time that it is myopic. The marker “scarf” sets into motion a story chain—she is young, forced to wear the scarf, married, has children, and can’t flirt with men, which leads the storyteller back to a literal invocation of the binary—she closes the story by positioning Sharbat’s life as “opposite” to her’s. Note that Sharbat’s face is not covered. Despite this visual fact, the narrative is so strong that it overrides visual evidence to the contrary. For example, this student knows that “you had to cover your face” although Sharbat’s face is not covered. It is also notable that while this student “knows” that these gender performances are required of Sharbat, the gender performances required of her remain unremarkable (i.e. to flirt and look pretty). Further these narratives imply that Sharbat’s performance requirements are the products of oppression, and Western gender performances are the products of choice.
Another example of the myopic gaze can be seen in response to Figures 2 and 4 and further illustrate the marker that prompts the narrow story:
The veil is the single marker that most consistently invokes these elements of the Muslim woman’s story: the uniformity of her thought and dress, her inherent sorrow about the conditions of her life, the religious fervor of Islam, her forced submission, the barren landscape in which she subsists, and the subservient stance she must hold constant. As we have seen in the case of Sharbat, markers that potentially counter the narrow story do not override the power of the veil as a sign of oppression. This myopia functions to protect Western women from acknowledging ambiguities that could destabilize their own position in raced and gendered hierarchies. What would shift if they conceded the possibility that in some arenas Muslim women were as, if not more, liberated than themselves? In the next section, we will explore their investment in a stable binary.
As we have posited thus far, binary frameworks are a foundational element in how we come to construct ourselves in relation to (different) Others. Although the concept of difference is a necessary component in meaning-making, it also works to organize the world into sets of fixed either/ or poles. However much organizational utility these poles have, they are only fixed in an ideal sense. Binary relations are not in actuality fixed or eternal, but are products of norms and practices that are continuously being contested and thus require maintenance (Flax, 1988). These binaries anchor our place in the social order and provide security, at the same time they confront us with anxiety producing ambiguities that destabilize this order and demand repair (Hall, 2003).
When binaries are destabilized by the presence of ambiguity, those who are invested in the positions must work to reposition the Other to its proper location. For example, in our work we often encounter the narrative that the Muslim woman is forced to wear the veil and that if she doesn’t conform to this rules of gender, she could be killed. At the same time, having to conform to gendered codes of dress is often posited as shocking and unbelievable, and a problem that is located exclusively in the Islamic “world”. Yet, transgendered people are killed in the United States for not conforming to gendered codes of dress.9 The murder of transgendered people in the U.S. may be the exception, but so is the murder of a woman who is not wearing a veil an exception in an Islamic context. In both examples, there is a continuum of choice around gender roles in their respective contexts. Grey areas such as these threaten the clarity of binary positions and the identities that are based on them.
In our work, White female student teachers use a language of “culture clash” in an effort to reconcile the ambiguities of their position as liberated in relation to Muslim women’s positions as oppressed. This language works to restore stability to the binary, and reinscribe its boundaries as impenetrable. Note in the following statements how the respondents attempt to reconcile the ambiguities they see, indicating that there is no conceptualization that Muslim women could be both Muslim and Western:
Figure 410
Here are some responses to Figure 4
These student teachers attempt to reconcile elements in the images that are incompatible with their narrative about Muslim women by repositioning them firmly at one end of the binary or the other. If the markers of liberation are contradictory enough to the story of the veil, they move the women over to the Western/ liberated side of the binary. The markers these student teachers use to determine the position of the Muslim woman include: stance, facial expression, clothing, an urban setting, a cigarette, and being outdoors in the open. Each of these markers demonstrate how specific and narrow the story is that it cannot contain, for example, Islam and smoking, Islam and urban life, Islam and appearing relaxed, Islam and public space. These discourses convey an inability to conceptualize Islam and any form of modernity these students are familiar with. The only way these student teachers can reconcile a Muslim woman wearing a veil while exhibiting markers of liberation is to place her in the West. She cannot be in the Middle East, veiled, and not oppressed.
It would appear that these student teachers are invested in this narrative. The question is why? We propose that there are multiple complex and intersecting reasons for their investment, including: it prevents them from acknowledging how patriarchy limits their own lives; it elevates their gender status by comparing them to third world women rather than to White men; it protects dominant narratives of progress and equal opportunity; it allows them to locate oppression outside of the West and obscure the historical and systematic inequities that have plagued the U.S. for generations—inequities in race, class, and gender from which on most axes, they benefit; and it absolves them of taking action to challenge inequity in their own spheres of influence. By aligning themselves with White patriarchy, these student teachers ameliorate the effects of the one axis on which they don’t experience privilege: gender.
Scholars in education have widely identified the need for teachers to engage complexly in questions of knowledge construction: how do we know what we know, whose perspectives are missing, and whose interests does this knowledge serve (Apple, 2004; Banks, 1996; King, 2004; Villegas & Lucas, 2002)? For us, as teachers, to interrupt the patterns of inequality that invariably manifest in our classrooms, we first must be able to identify the patterns. Our experience has been that presenting scholarly evidence of these patterns alone has not been effective in making them identifiable to student teachers. One of the most challenging dimensions of this process is to make visible what has historically, and systematically depended upon its invisibility to both our students and to us as teacher educators. For indeed as we have learned from scholars in critical education studies, hegemonic social narratives that reproduce existing social stratifications depend upon an invisibility, a popular consensus, for sustenance (see for example Donaldo Macedo & Lilia Bartolome, Henry Giroux, Cameron McCarthy, and Michelle Fine).
In this paper, we are not arguing that some Muslim women are not oppressed, for as we have tried to make evident we believe that all women experience oppression under patriarchy along a spectrum mediated by their other social positions. What we are challenging is mainstream knowledge about Muslim women: that they are inherently oppressed, that they are oppressed exclusively in ways that Western women are not, and that this oppression is a function of Islam. Rather, we contend that the effect of mainstream knowledge about Muslim women functions to reinscribe broader relations of power. Further, this is only one example of relations that are dependent upon, not isolated from, other social locations. Returning to our initial challenge - guiding our students in the recognition of social location - we have come to see the futility of using one location (gender) to illuminate another (race) within an epistemological framework that does not in itself make social location visible. By shifting our attention as teacher educators away from discrete social categories, toward the web of broader social dynamics that shape knowledge construction, we hope to provide our students with a starting point for gaining perspective about their own position in the larger socio-political context. Interrogating mainstream knowledge that reproduces power relations is important not solely because, in this case, it does an injustice to Muslim women and the heterogeneity of their lives. This interrogation is important because it reveals the patterns by which dominant ideologies are reproduced by teachers and how they may manifest in classrooms.
Ours is only one example of the inability of White female student teachers to examine how social positionality shapes how their knowledge is constructed. The binaries we have explored, and the ideologies embedded in them, have concrete outcomes for their practice in schools. Disporportionality in academic tracking, discipline rates, and special education referrals are rooted in racialized binaries. If, as in this example, the West is constructed by teachers as the site of liberation, it follows that opportunity is perceived as equally accessible by all, and that one’s achievement is based on individual merit. This ideology does not allow for the development of practices necessary to interrupt the perpetuation of inequality. If White teachers are prepared to engage in critical reflection on the implications of social location for their own knowledge construction, they may be better equipped to guide their students in the same critical reflection.
1 “Please direct all correspondence to Özlem Sensoy, PhD, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Education, Simon Fraser University, 8888 University Drive, Burnaby, British Columbia V5A 1S6 Canada, Telephone: (604) 268 6795 Fax: (604) 291 3203, Email: ozlem_sensoy@sfu.ca”
2 We would like to extend our sincere thanks to Geneva Gay, Manka Varghese, and James A. Banks who made invaluable suggestions to improve early drafts of this paper.
3 We use popular knowledge to mean “the facts, interpretations, and beliefs that are institutionalized within television, movies, videos, records, and other forms of mass media” (Banks, 1996, p. 8).
4 Websource: http://www.skidmore.edu/academics/arthistory/ah369/westernrepresent.htm
5 Websource: http://www.startribune.com/images/148/index4.html
6 Statistics for 2002 reported on the American Federation of Labor-Congress of Industrial Organizations (AFL-CIO), www.aflcio.org/issuespolitics/women/equalpay/FactSheetTimeForEqualPay.cfm and the Institute for Women’s Policy Research, www.iwpr.org/States2004/index.htm
7 http://www.plannedparenthood.org/library/BIRTHCONTROL/EPICC_facts.html
8 Source: National Geographic cover June 1985
9 Websource: Remembering our Dead, www.rememberingourdead.org/#
10Websource: ,a href="http://www.skidmore.edu/academics/arthistory/ah369/finalveil.htm">http://www.skidmore.edu/academics/arthistory/ah369/finalveil.htm
Apple, M. W. (2004). Ideology and curriculum (3rd ed.). New York: Routledge.
Banks, J. A. (1996). Multicultural education, transformative knowledge & action: Historical and contemporary perspectives. New York: Teachers College Press.
Flax, J. (1988). Postmodernism and gender relations in feminist theory. In L. Nicholson (Ed.), Feminism/Postmodernism (pp. 39–62). New York: Routledge.
Hall, S. (2003). Representation: Cultural representations and signifying practices. Thousand Oaks: Sage.
Kahf, M. (1999). Western representations of the Muslim woman: From termagant to odalisque. Austin: University of Texas Press.
King, J. E. (2004). Culture-centered knowledge: Black studies, curriculum transformation, and social action. In J. A. Banks & C. A. M. Banks (Eds.), Handbook of research on multicultural education (2nd ed., pp 349-380). San Francisco: Jossey Bass.
Newman, C. (2002). A life revealed. National Geographic, April.
Ong, A. (2001). Colonialism and modernity: Feminist re-presentations of women in non-Western societies. In K. Bhavnani (Ed.), Feminism & race (pp.108-118). New York: Oxford University Press.
Schofield, J. W. (2004). The colorblind perspective in school: Causes and consequences. In J. A. Banks & C. A. M. Banks (Eds.), Multicultural education: Issues and perspectives (5 th ed., pp 265-288). New York: Wiley.
Shaheen, J. G. (2001). Reel bad Arabs: How Hollywood vilifies a people. New York: Olive Branch Press.
Steet, L. (2000). Veils and daggers: A century of National Geographic’s representation of the Arab world. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
Villenas, A. M. & Lucas, T. (2002). Preparing culturally responsive teachers: Rethinking the curriculum. Journal of Teacher Education 53 (1), pp 20-32.
© Radical Pedagogy