On Friday 28 November I attended the symposium Decolonize the Art Curriculum in Secondary Education. It was special for me to talk about 'decolonization' in that large lecture hall on the 14th floor of the VU, where I took a film history course more than ten years ago, where we exclusively discussed European and American films. We never discussed the 'white gaze’, knowledge production, and it was the lecturer in front of a group of students who lectures and brings the knowledge. To be honest I was skeptical. But also curious. Decolonizing as a term is not something you use lightly. What could 'decolonizing' look like according to the speakers? And what about secondary education, which I know little about?

By: Rosa te Velde

The day started, I was a little late. I stepped in the moment a white man shared that he was a white man. Ah, really?

I checked with my neighbour, how was the day introduced? Surely something had been shared about the intentions for this day? Why 'decolonize'? Anything about how we talk to each other? Something about 'brave space' maybe? Or how conversations about decolonization have taken place in recent years in the Netherlands and abroad?

Nope. The day had simply begun. The room was full and the participants were neatly squeezed into the lecture benches in straight rows. A group of at least 80 predominantly white female teachers and students from primary, secondary and higher education. No surprise of course. But come, historically, that a certain group of people became involved in arts education? And: what does that do? And I wondered: how many pupils and students would we teach together?

Three speakers presented their research and work. The first speaker was sociologist Ismintha Waldring about 'belonging' at the VU. Research had been conducted into 'Western' and 'non-Western' students (wait, what do we actually mean by these terms?), and to what extent they felt at home and recognized themselves in their teachers. She shared one of the questions that had remained unanswered for herself: a group of right-wing populist white male students feel systematically excluded at the VU. What should we do with that? There was no time to discuss this. Too bad, because this question comes up in all kinds of variations in the Dutch public debate, where we should recognize the watered-down version of 'all lives matter' or Trump's 'both sides' rhetoric in our polder debates. Could we perhaps have answered this question if there had been an awareness of the long histories of exclusion, power and privilege that comes with understanding ‘decoloniality’? If we had formulated a common intention for the day, for example with ‘social justice’ at its core?

Saïda Franken's presentation was of a completely different nature; as a white Muslim convert with an art school background — including a Bauhaus reference to Oskar Schlemmer's Triadic Ballet (1925) — she had always been puzzled and troubled by the standard and lack of art classes in Islamic primary schools. Because expression had meant so much to her during her own childhood to escape from her parents (one of which with a Holocaust trauma), she threw herself into the opportunities for creative expression in these schools. In her presentation she gave tips on the possibilities of making art with Islamic students. I could imagine that this presentation was ‘useful’ for some teachers. In the art schools I know, I have only encountered a few students in recent years who are Muslim. The question of why religion or spirituality has no place at art academies is hardly ever discussed. Saïda's presentation showed her enormous personal motivation and involvement, which was moving. Still, I kept thinking, what does this mean in relation to 'decolonizing'? What and whose standards of ‘good art’ and ‘creative expression’ are used here? What do the students themselves think?

The third speaker, emeritus professor Kitty Zijlmans, warned against an explosive presentation. Rightly so. She bombarded us with the many slides of her presentation. According to Zijlmans, what is needed in arts education is a 'global perspective'. Art is of all times, so 'everything [is] equal'. Forget about telling art history chronologically, we have to consider art in a wide scope (from different parts in the world) and only then in depth, in time.

I was struck by the ease and speed of her story. But I also missed the political and historical questions: what exactly should we unlearn, unlearn or sacrifice? What pain is behind the need to change something? How do certain ideas and 'standards' about what art actually is remain intact and stay out of sight? And would this have consequences for the way in which we teach?

Is a ‘global perspective’ the same as a decolonial perspective? The retired professor thought that was a good question, but she couldn't answer it.

The need for change in art education became painfully clear by the generously shared stories by members of the young OSCAM team, led by Marian Duff. They were lined up especially for this part of the programme: six young people who had followed different paths and who have found a place at OSCAM where they experience the freedom and relief to work on subjects in an environment where they find recognition. One by one they explained what is missing and what goes wrong in art education at secondary school and beyond. They left immediately afterwards, because a new exhibition was opened at OSCAM that same evening.

The rest of the afternoon brought little good. Within the three parallel sessions, discussions escalated. When asked critically about the need to talk about the painful histories and motivations, one of the participants became visibly irritated: “Can we finally talk about decolonizing the curriculum?” But we had no shared idea of what ‘that’ is precisely, what it involves exactly. Something about inclusion and diversity.

How nice would it have been if we could have talked about the sleepless night that one of the present teachers had had beforehand? She feared she would be told that everything she had done all these years had been wrong. Gradually she felt more and more comfortable, but she knew: there are difficult aspects that we now avoid. What fears are there, where do they come from, how do we share them honestly with each other, and how can we then think about what is really needed? And why is this experienced as something ‘personal’, while we are formed by systems, upbringing, training?

Another teacher shared that she had felt a 'ball of fire' in her stomach during the day: the disappointment, the anger and also the sadness of this missed opportunity. So many teachers were there together, even someone from the Board for Tests and Exams, who would start working on the final exam the following week!

The day ended and many of us seemed to feel dissatisfied and agitated. Perhaps that was the biggest gain; everyone who was present felt: this is not enough. It was painful when one of the organizers shared that she had had doubts about using the term 'decolonization' for this day, which, according to her, would exclude Turkish students, for example…

We often hear the terms 'decolonization' and 'decolonization' these days. How we use decoloniality at the Social Justice and Diversity in the Arts Lectorate comes from Abya Yala (what we call South America today); decoloniality starts from the idea that modernity/coloniality permeates all facets of our current lives: in our dominant ideas about ourselves, how we ought to behave, what we should or should not interfere in, education, research, art , citizenship. Decoloniality shows that there are other worlds that are based on values of relationality.

Read more about decoloniality and the way we use it within our lectorate here: www.ahk.nl/en/research-groups/social-justice-and-diversity-in-the-arts/5-pillars/

Thanks to discussions with Jappe Groenendijk, teachers Ans Hom and Gina Sanches and students from the Breitner Academy.