The Real Problem with Ethnic Studies

Ethnic Studies views the histories of Native American, Black, Latino, and Asian American communities chiefly through a framework of oppression, flattening the richness and texture of their stories.

TL;DR

The San Francisco Unified School District (SFUSD) has recently been embroiled in controversy over its Ethnic Studies course for high school students, which will become a graduation requirement beginning with the Class of 2028. The curriculum development and enrollment process has been anything but smooth. Leaked lesson materials—including a slide that likened China’s Red Guards to civil rights leaders—sparked outrage over the course’s ideological content. And just three days before the 2024–25 school year began, parents were surprised to learn that all ninth graders had been auto-enrolled in the course. Most recently, at the July 29 Board of Education meeting, the District scrapped its “problematic” homegrown curriculum in favor of an off-the-shelf program.

But there’s a deeper issue at stake. By design, Ethnic Studies frames the histories of Native American, Black, Latino, and Asian American communities primarily through the lens of oppression—flattening the texture of their stories. A better approach would invite students into a deeper study of one or two of these groups through nuanced historical and literary exploration. This would help foster a sense of identity rooted not in the binary of “oppressed” and “oppressor,” but in the perspective and confidence that come from understanding both the broader American story and the particular story of one’s own people.

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Ethnic Studies first emerged in the late 1960s, catalyzed by student activism during the civil rights movement. In 1968, the Third World Liberation Front—a coalition of Black, Latino, Asian American, and Native American students—led strikes at San Francisco State College (now SF State) and the University of California, Berkeley. They demanded the inclusion of their histories and perspectives into what was then a predominantly Eurocentric curriculum. After months of protests, the president of the College agreed to establish the first College of Ethnic Studies at SF State in 1969.

At its core, Ethnic Studies is grounded in the idea that race and ethnicity are central to understanding U.S. history, culture, and institutions. It emphasizes the experiences of historically marginalized groups—African Americans, Latinos, Asian Americans, and Native Americans—highlighting how systems of power, privilege, and oppression have shaped their lives. Key tenets include the affirmation of cultural identity, the critique of racism, and the promotion of social justice and civic engagement .Students examine examine topics such as colonization and resistance, immigration and displacement, civil rights movements, and contemporary issues like mass incarceration or anti-Asian hate. Depending on the school, the curriculum may also address intersectionality, gender, and global movements for justice.

Today's high school Ethnic Studies courses carry on this mission, which is inherently ideological in both its goals and its methods. Drawing heavily from the ideas of Brazilian educator Paulo Freire, particularly his influential work Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Ethnic Studies views education as a political act. Freire argued that traditional models of teaching treat students as passive recipients of knowledge, reinforcing systems of oppression; in contrast, he called for a “liberatory” pedagogy in which students critically examine their social conditions and are empowered to challenge injustice. Ethnic Studies adopts this framework by encouraging students to analyze history through a lens of power, inequality, and resistance, and to transform how students see the world and their place within it.

One problem is that students are being invited to this critique before they have been inducted into the Western intellectual tradition. As Allan Bloom argued in his 1987 work, The Closing of the American Mind, a well-functioning democracy depends on citizens who understand the philosophical foundations of liberty, equality, and self-government—ideas rooted in the works of thinkers like Plato, Locke, and the American Founders. Bloom warned that when students are taught to deconstruct systems of power without first grasping the moral and intellectual architecture that sustains a free society, the result is not enlightenment but cynicism and confusion. Ethnic Studies, as currently conceived in San Francisco public schools, encourages students to see themselves as victims or oppressors before they have encountered the principles of natural rights, constitutionalism, or reasoned debate. This inversion risks undermining the very civic capacity that education ought to strengthen: the ability to understand one’s inheritance, question it thoughtfully, and contribute meaningfully to its renewal.

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San Francisco’s march toward a district-wide Ethnic Studies began with a unanimous Board of Education vote in March 2021 requiring students in the Class of 2028 to take two semesters. The idea is that when students—especially those from historically marginalized communities—see their own cultures, histories, and contributions reflected in the curriculum, they’re more likely to feel valued, confident, and connected to school, ultimately translating into higher engagement and academic performance. Indeed, a 2016 Stanford study backs up this claim: the researchers found that taking an Ethnic Studies course in San Francisco high schools significantly improved attendance, GPA, and credits earned—especially for students at risk of dropping out.

That’s the theory, but the rollout has been anything but smooth. Three days before the 2024-25 school year, parents learned via blast email that every freshman had been auto-enrolled into the course in place of world history. A leak of the District’s homegrown curriculum revealed questionable content. For example, China’s Red Guards—Cultural Revolution-era student militias—were listed alongside the civil rights activists, farmworker organizers, and suffragettes in a project about “movements that pushed for change and justice”—a gross mischaracterization. Exercises asked students to create a definition for “white male privilege” and asserted that this privilege had been created over many years through government policy. Students were to be taught about “heterosexism” and asked to consider: “How does drag queen story hour disrupt the cycle of heterosexism for young minds?”

Enter Superintendent Maria Su. Facing pushback from hundreds of parents and Mayor Lurie, she floated a June 2025 “pause” to audit the course and scrub controversial content. The reaction was swift: teachers’ union leaders warned of schedule chaos, students launched #SaveEthnicStudies, and the board fielded marathon public comment. Within days, Su dropped the pause and declared that a full year of Ethnic Studies would be offered for ninth graders during the 2025-26 school year, with students enrolled by default.

Earlier this week, the board took the final off-ramp, voting to abandon its bespoke curriculum and purchase Gibbs Smith’s Voices: An Ethnic Studies Survey—a packaged high school curriculum that provides “counter-narratives” to typical U.S. history with lessons across six modules: Understanding Race & Ethnicity; Indigenous Studies; Black Studies; Latino Studies; AAPI Studies; and Race & Ethnicity Today. The curriculum examines intersectionality, bias, discrimination, historical resistance/resilience, and encourages students to communicate findings and take action—all topics found in California’s Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum. So, after four years, two superintendents, a recall, and enough parental angst to power 100,000 homes for a year, SFUSD will debut Ethnic Studies 2.0 this August: same graduation requirement, fewer homemade slides, and, District leaders hope, less drama.

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As conceived today, Ethnic Studies ill-serves SFUSD students and the San Francisco community because it views the stories of Native Americans, African-Americans, Latinos, and Asian Americans primarily through the lens of oppression. Chances are high that student-members of these groups internalize that they are part of an “oppressed” group and that white students internalize that they are part of an “oppressor” group. A better approach would be to draw students more deeply into the stories of one or two of these groups through a nuanced exploration of history and literature, focusing on one group at a time.

Native Americans can and should be studied on their own terms. Yes, they were brutalized and oppressed by colonial settlers, like indigenous people all over the world. But, before that, they built complex societies, cultivated the land, and developed sophisticated systems of knowledge, governance, and storytelling. Students should certainly learn about the Trail of Tears and the1890 massacre at Wounded Knee. They should also read works like There There by Tommy Orange—a novel that follows a dozen Native characters living in urban Oakland and reveals the resilience, identity struggles, and vitality of Native life today.

Native American history and literature should be studied, appreciated, cried over, and loved not because it fits into a four-part story of American Oppression, but because it offers specific ways of seeing the world that challenge dominant ways of thinking and enrich our lives. For example, in her book Braiding Sweetgrass, botanist and Potawatomi Nation member Robin Wall Kimmerer paints a picture of the natural world not as a collection of resources to be exploited, but as a web of relationships grounded in reciprocity, respect, and gratitude. Through stories of sweetgrass harvesting, maple sugaring, and Potawatomi language, Kimmerer connects ecology with culture and philosophy. This book introduces new ideas about nature and culture and prompts readers to consider new ideas about what it means to be an American.

The same principle applies to studying African-American, Latino, and Asian American history and literature. These stories are American stories that comprise suffering, redemption, and brilliance—not just in resistance to oppression, but in the creation of culture, community, and meaning. They reveal alternative visions of freedom, belonging, and identity that challenge the dominant narrative of rugged individualism and offer distinct models of solidarity, resilience, and triumph. Reading works like The Warmth of Other Suns, The House on Mango Street, or Minor Feelings, students are invited to see America from the perspective of distinct cultures, shaped by migration, hard labor, discrimination, and creativity. To study them is to become more fully alive to the complexity and promise of the American story.

So, my advice to the San Francisco School Board: You’ve made your bed for 2025-26. Students will be once again viewing the complex and rich stories of these four groups primarily through the lens of oppression. But you can take this year to imagine and plan for a better way: Beginning in 2026, SFUSD should offer courses that draw students more deeply into the stories of one or two of these groups through a more nuanced exploration of history and literature—thereby fostering student identity based not so much on “oppressed” or “oppressor” but the perspective and power that comes from understanding the full story of America as well as the story of one’s own people.