Speech & Debate Coaches: Alright, Let’s Talk, Too.

The beautiful thing about speech and debate is how it can directly impact change. Now, it doesn’t always feel like that: sometimes we get so wrapped up in chasing trophies or bids or titles (or just getting through an 18 hour tournament without going into some sort of shock from caffeine consumption) that even coaches can miss the forest through the golden, glittering trees. But the reality is that speech and debate empowers students every day to not only use their voices, but to believe in and amplify the voices of others. As coaches and leaders, we need to take a page out of the book of our inspiring speech and debate students and do the same.

Many of us have the privilege of a platform and it is no longer acceptable for us to passively let that privilege be squandered away without using it to empower others.

As coaches and leaders, we have an obligation to use the privilege of our station to amplify the voices of young people that are speaking up in this activity for justice, equality, and basic human decency. Young people like Ahana Sen (Quarry Lane, CA), Allen Abbot (Quarry Lane, CA), Aarushi Sahejpal (Presentation, CA), Megan Munce (Presentation, CA), and Neha Dubey (Mission San Jose, CA). Seriously: if you aren’t familiar with the amazing advocacies these kids are making, take some time to listen to their messages (and be prepared to be impressed, proud, and then heartsick that we’ve created a situation where students even have to take these kind of stands). Listen to them and really absorb their truth, even if it is so foreign to you that it seems unreal. Sadly, it’s very real and not just limited to those speaking up.

Those aforementioned young people have done an amazing job explaining the injustices they face as competitors in this activity, so I’d like to discuss an aspect of this that has yet to really be touched on: leadership.

Representation Matters

If you are running one of the largest, most prestigious invitationals in the country- one that brings in hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars for your organization- why are your directors all white dudes, your entire (large) tab staff (save for ONE woman and ONE person of color) all white dudes, and your elimination panel judges almost entirely all white dudes? This is a real situation I observed this last season and when I asked about the lack of representation, I was told that there simply aren’t “qualified” womxn or people of color available to work in tab or judge in any meaningful sense. Can you believe that? In 2018, that is the party line that some leaders in our activity are willing to comfortably say out loud, like it isn’t utter nonsense. Worse yet, this isn’t the only debate space or tournament where I’ve heard these same, weak justifications regurgitated.

We find ourselves in something of a totally self inflicted double-bind in speech and debate. For decades, whether consciously or not, we’ve perpetuated the myth that agentic (what society generally labels as masculine) communication and leadership styles are superior. That belief system is a self fulfilling, cyclical prophecy: young girls, students of color, and other marginalized members of our community are deterred from competition by sexist or racist comments on ballots, or from tone deaf coaches or leaders, leaving us with a much smaller pool of womxn or POC who want to judge or coach in the future. So, when it comes time to select my most “qualified” (whatever that even means) judges for a final round panel, the people who have the highest qualifications (which traditionally means the most prestigious tournaments judged or worked at, most rigorous travel schedule, years in this activity, success in this activity, etc.) tend to be overwhelmingly white and male. Various studies, which have mostly looked at college debate, have suggested that white male judges tend to give higher speaker points and win rates to white male (but especially just male) competitors. This further alienates marginalized young people, entrenching the cycle.

But even beyond the cycle of nonsense we are creating for ourselves, representation matters because our students (and coaches!) don’t deserve to walk into tab with a protest or question, or into a final round, and be greeted by a sea of faces that look nothing like them. I know that none of us mean for it to come across this way, but speaking as a woman who has had to face a board room full of men by myself more times than I can count, I can tell you that the implied message in situations like that is crystal clear to any who have ever faced it: you aren’t one of us and you don’t belong here.

Don’t, for even one minute, rest on your laurels and think that the debate boys’ club is any different than any of the other boys’ clubs you’re seeing pilloried on the news, whether in government, with the #MeToo movement, or anywhere else. And much like those movements, this goes beyond just the superficial: we’re not just talking about girls not getting trophies, we’re talking about students (and coaches!) being sexually harassed and sexually assaulted.

So, what do we do?

Bring womxn, people of color, and other marginalized folks into the fold. Seriously, it’s that simple. Put diverse people in leadership positions and remember that empowered womxn empower womxn (and empowered people of color, LGBTQ people, economically marginalized people, people with disabilities, and other marginalized people empower even more people, too).

That seems. . . like an overly simplistic answer.

Well, it’s not as complicated of a problem as we like to pretend it is while we grasp for an anemic defense of our poor practices.

This year, at the California State Championship Tournament, I made a conscious effort to diversify our staff and judging pool. It was far from perfect and we have a long, long way to go, but of my almost 60 tournament officials, 52% were female-identifying (56% of tab staff specifically) and 73% “diverse” (meaning womxn, POC, LGBTQ people, etc.). As far as I know, we had the only major tournament in the country that had a final Policy panel of judges that was majority womxn (and 80% comprised of diversity enhancing judges, too). Don’t tell me there aren’t “qualified” people for you to bring in, when the reality is that you just aren’t trying.

Did we have to train some of those people because they had been shut out of the boys’ club and had no prior tab experience? Of course. But it takes 5 minutes to teach a brand new person the entry level basics of Tabroom or Joy of Tournaments. Those are real skills that these diverse folks can take back to their teams or leagues and use to educate and empower others. That is how we break the cycle.

Talk about Implicit bias

Talk about implicit bias with your team judges before you even get to the tournament, to the judge pool at the tournament, to other coaches, to parents, to students.

Nobody believes that there’s some secret cabal of white male coaches, maniacally twisting their mustaches and figuring out how to alienate womxn and POC, but the fact is that we are all victims of implicit bias, regardless of how “woke” we are or what passionate allies we consider ourselves to be. Being brought up in the same forensics world as everyone else, I’m just as guilty of this as anyone. I have no doubt that I would be mortified and appalled by some of the ballots or comments that I made earlier in my career, whether about “shrill” voices or short skirts or whatever else. I was wrong to ever make comments like that, but it took years of experience and talking to people way smarter than me to realize how wrong I was. Even as a woman, my privilege shielded me from the harm I was causing. That’s shameful.

To overcome that as an activity, we have to talk about implicit bias and address it head on. In California, we are rewriting our State judging instructions this year and will be adding a section at the top about implicit bias. This is something all leadership at every level should be tackling. We still have to do a lot more.

Create safe spaces

There’s a lot of reflexive and misguided mockery in our world for the idea of safe spaces, but the forensics space ought to be just that. After all: we’re working with children.

A safe space doesn’t mean a space safe from contrary opinions or challenging ideas, but rather a space where everyone feels safe and empowered to speak their truth.

Speaking as someone who is known as a rather public advocate for these types of causes, I can’t tell you how many coaches and students have come up to me over the last year- often as total strangers- and shared their experiences with me. I am honored that anyone would feel safe to share their truth with me, but it also breaks my heart that so many are suffering with prejudice and bias in an activity that should be nothing less than empowering. At our state tournament, a coach brought a student up to me who had a bad interaction with a judge; the young woman was embarrassed, had her head down, and was afraid to speak, but her coach looked at her and said, “it’s ok, Miss Angelique cares and she will listen.” She took a deep breath and we talked about what she experienced. Do people know that you care and will listen? Are you sure? Be loud and shameless with that message, so you can serve as a beacon to those who need help navigating the darkness.

Oppression only survives through the silence of good people

Don’t just create spaces either, codify them. The National Speech and Debate Association has a phenomenal anti-harassment and discrimination policy (found on page 44) that they have had on the books for a very long time. Last year, the California High School Speech Association adopted virtually the same policy. I argue that every state organization, every invitational, every league, and every program ought to adopt something similar. You may think that policies like that are just empty words on a paper, but I assure you that those words are awfully meaningful to the marginalized students and coaches who are mostly suffering in silence.

Stop giving good money to bad people

Or at least stop giving good money to people who perpetuate bad ideas.

Listen, I get it. Not every team has the luxury of traveling across the wild blue yonder to seek out tournaments run with less-problematic practices. And hey, maybe you really need that one last bid. But please remember that we have two very powerful weapons in our arsenal: our voices and our money.

Ask tournament directors about the demographics of their staff and judge pool. Ask what they are doing to make sure that students (and coaches!) feel safe to speak up when bad things happen. Do they have ombudspeople? Do those folks have training on how to deal with sensitive issues? What is the reporting procedure? What practices are in places to insure equality of representation? That type of information should be public and easily accessible, likely on the tournament invitation or camp page itself. If the answers you get from directors when asking these questions are subpar, tell them. And don’t just tell them, tell others.

Most importantly, when you get those insufficient answers, take your team elsewhere if you reasonably can. There are other tournaments, but if there isn’t one where you are. . . start one. Ultimately, these bad practices are never going to stop if we murmur our complaints to one another, but still agree to pay thousands to attend (or cash checks when we work at) tournaments or camps that perpetuate harmful norms.

Actively support programs, tournaments, and directors that are members of marginalized populations. Focus on empowering our most marginalized students. Bring your teams, volunteer to help, and get others to do the same. Yes, it’s work, but it’s also what’s right.

Our amazing, outspoken, thoughtful kids already are doing what’s right, so us grown ups need to step up and amplify their message. After all, we are the ones with the privilege of a platform. Like Representative John Lewis said just the other day:

“Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Make some noise. Get in good trouble. Get in necessary trouble. Do better.