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At Esperanza in Oakland, we recently wrapped up Lesson 3 of our 8-Week Wellness Program with the 4th and 5th grade girls. The theme of the lesson was movement—an essential tool for both physical and emotional well-being. We engaged in activities that encouraged the girls to express their emotions through movement, connecting their body’s energy with their feelings in a powerful way. The lesson began with a mindfulness exercise, where we invited the girls to be fully present, pay attention to their breathing, and notice how their bodies felt. From there, we transitioned into free dance, where the girls were encouraged to let go, dance, or stretch.
The goal of this lesson wasn’t just to get the girls active—it was to help them learn how to process and release emotions in a healthy, embodied way. So often, our feelings can get stuck inside us, but when we move, we unlock new ways of understanding what we’re going through. By the end of the session, it was nice to see how the girls’ energy had shifted, from shy and hesitant at the beginning to joyful and uninhibited by the end.
This practice embodies the essence of Life I Love School’s saying, "All Different, All Beautiful." Each girl brought her unique movement style to the session, and we honored the beauty in their diversity of expression. We aim to create a space where each girl feels seen and celebrated for who she is, and this lesson was a beautiful example of that mission in action.
As a Black woman, I understand the unique challenges that Black and Brown girls face in our world. However, I’ve also come to realize that despite my shared racial identity with the girls we serve, I still have my own blind spots. It's so easy to assume that simply because I am from a marginalized community, I am immune to bias. But in truth, we all carry biases, and it’s my responsibility to actively check them—especially when I’m entering spaces where I want young girls to feel safe, seen, and valued.
Before I step into the communities Life I Love serves, I take time to reflect and ensure I’m not bringing assumptions into the space. I ask myself three important questions:
These questions serve as my compass, helping me ensure that I’m not projecting my biases onto the students but rather creating an open, safe, and brave space where their voices can truly thrive.
Recently, my daughter Zoe, who is 12, gave me a gentle yet powerful reminder of this very practice. After picking her up from debate practice, I asked, “How was it?” Zoe responded, “It was chill. They had a scholar from SWANA (Southwest Asia and North Africa) lead the session tonight.” I replied, “Was he nice?” She paused and said, “Wow, Mom, look at you being biased. You think men are the only scholars from SWANA?” Her words hit me hard.
In that moment, I realized I had unconsciously assumed that the scholar leading her lesson must have been a man, simply based on my internalized stereotypes. It was a humbling reminder that bias can slip in, even in the most unexpected moments.
Zoe’s reflection reinforced the importance of the work I do before entering a classroom. Her words reminded me to remain vigilant, constantly checking my biases to ensure I am fully present for the young girls I work with - without the weight of my assumptions. If I want to create a space where girls feel empowered and seen for who they truly are, it’s crucial that I, too, do the inner work of confronting my biases.
The practice of checking my biases is about more than just avoiding harmful assumptions, it’s about creating a space where the girls feel brave enough to express themselves fully. In Lesson 3, for example, the movement exercise was a way to invite the girls to release emotions through their bodies. But creating that environment required me to approach the session without judgment, without preconceived notions about how they should move or express their feelings. The girls led the way, and I followed.
When we, as educators, make a habit of checking our biases, we allow the young people we serve to show up as their authentic selves. We create spaces where they can explore their emotions, take risks, and, most importantly, feel safe. I’m grateful for the reminder that this work is not a one-time effort but an ongoing process of reflection, humility, and growth.
I’m also grateful for Zoe, who in her own quiet way, is teaching me as much as I am teaching her. Her insight reminded me that if I want to create the most nurturing environments for these girls, I must first nurture my own awareness.
As we continue to walk alongside these young girls at Esperanza, I hope to keep learning from both the students and my daughters, deepening my practice of listening, observing, and growing so that I can show up as the most effective and compassionate leader for them.
