Why Fugitive Pedagogy Is a Book All Educators Should Be Reading Right Now

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

I mentioned in my last post that I'd be talking a bit more about something that is giving me hope and a way to think about how to navigate the next few years (or rest of my life--take your pick).  


And while I don't usually make blog titles so explicit, I really needed to with this one. I listened to Fugitive Pedagogy: Carter G. Woodson and the Art of Black Teaching by Jarvis Givens a few years ago and it's all I can think about since the current administration decided it wanted to root out anything related to diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging. I recently had to relisten to it and read sections of it as well. Since January 2025, I've mentioned the book dozens of times if I've mentioned it once. 

The book explores the work of Carter G. Woodson and other Black educators in the 1900s.  Carter G. Woodson's impact is significant.  He earned a Ph.D. from Harvard in 1912 and would play an important role in shaping the study of Black history and education over the course of his life.  He would become best known for Negro History Week which becomes Black History Month and his books, including The Mis-Education of the Negro.  

In Fugitive Pedagogy, Givens explores the strategic and subversive practices of Black educators in the early half of the 20th century who worked against systemic oppression in education. He shows how Woodson and other Black educators navigated a curriculum they were expected to teach that did not actually serve Black students. In order to support Black students' surviving and thriving in a world hostile to their existence and actively telling them they were inferior, Black educators engaged in fugitive pedagogy--stealing away opportunities to teach students about Black history and culture as well as the way the world is.  The parallel drew up how enslaved people had sought out opportunities to learn to read and write despite legal restrictions and the threat of mortal harm.  

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is the way it reveals Carter G. Woodson’s understanding of education as both a site of oppression and a tool for liberation. How can you be in a system but not necessarily a part of that system? His work reminds us that education is never neutral.  It can both reinforce existing power structures and challenge them. Educators today can apply Woodson’s insights by recognizing and countering systemic inequities within their own institutions, creating spaces where students of all backgrounds can see themselves reflected in their learning.

I've known for a while that teaching can be an act of resistance in lots of ways but in this moment, Givens' book has helped me rethink things about what it means to be in education at a time of book bannings, exclusion, and targeting by the Trump administration are rampant. It raises interesting questions about what it means to be in a system that is changing in harmful ways and still desire to create spaces and shelter that allow for the ideas and insights that we know are important for all our students to succeed. 

There's definitely an argument to give up entirely and stop supporting or existing within a system.  That's a reasonable response for some. For others, less so.  And for some, there's a real worry that to abandon that system entirely, to leave, means that whoever is likely to replace you--will be less likely to care about those things.  

For those who stay, reading Fugitive Pedagogy can remind us of the role of community and collective effort in resisting educational oppression. Historically, Black teachers, students, parents, and activists worked together to sustain liberatory education. This reminds us that change doesn’t happen in isolation—building networks and support systems remains a critical part of resisting oppressive policies and practices in education today. It's also what can make this work feel less overwhelming and help individuals reclaim agency.

Yet, how we go about our own version of or adaptation of fugitive pedagogy in the 21st century is the question. The contexts are different in many ways and what does it mean for white educators to also be involved and participating in this work.  I don't know that I have an answer for any of that--or rather, we all need to find ways to answer those considerations in ways that are right for ourselves.  Still, to find those ways, we need each other.  We need our communities of practice where we can ask, share, make sense of things and try out things.   

There is a need for educators to be intentional in their approach, recognizing the power dynamics at play and leveraging community-based strategies. It’s not just about what is taught, but how it is taught, and the relationships built within learning spaces. The book underscores that resistance isn’t always loud; sometimes it’s subtle, embedded in everyday actions that affirm students’ identities and push back against dominant narratives.

Ultimately, Fugitive Pedagogy teaches us that resistance in an education system is both possible and necessary. It’s a reminder that even within restrictive systems, educators have always found ways to ensure that students receive knowledge that affirms their identities and agency. My key takeaway for educators and readers is to see themselves as part of this long lineage of resistance—to recognize that their work matters, that the struggle for equitable education is ongoing, and that they have the power to continue shaping a more just future of education--even if it may be hard and not as bold as we sometimes hope it to be.

In that vein, I decided to create a reading guide for individuals and groups who are interested in exploring Fugitive Pedagogy with an eye towards how to apply the lessons to today.  

Currently, I'm thinking about what it means to build communities and sharing across folks that are want to further consider Givens' work and what it means for their practice.  If you are interested in further conversation, please feel free to reach out.  


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Comments

  1. Lance, your reflections on "Fugitive Pedagogy" is timely. What resonates most powerfully is how Woodson and other Black educators recognized education as both "a site of oppression and a tool for liberation." This duality speaks directly to our current moment.

    Your post made me reflect on what we might call the "hollowing effect" that occurs when inclusion initiatives are systematically dismantled. Those who enforce exclusionary policies under the guise of "efficiency" or "neutrality" don't just harm those excluded -- they begin to lose something essential in themselves, becoming gradually diminished by their own actions. Like a room growing imperceptibly colder, this hollowing often goes unnoticed by those experiencing it.

    What struck me most was your observation that "resistance isn't always loud." In times like these, the quiet acts of remembering -- keeping a banned book visible on your shelf, acknowledging erased histories (shoutout to Jackie Robinson), learning a student's correct name when others won't -- become profound forms of moral witness. Writing about educators "stealing away opportunities" to teach truth, reminds us that resistance often happens in these small, daily choices affirming our shared humanity.

    Your question about "being in a system but not necessarily a part of that system" feels especially critical now. Perhaps this is where hope resides -- in recognizing that while we inherit historical patterns of inclusion and backlash, we also inherit the tools and wisdom of those who've navigated these waters before us.

    I appreciate your reflection here and your reminder that we're part of a "long lineage of resistance." Our Saturday work sessions have become exactly the kind of community-building space you describe -- where we can "ask, share, make sense of things and try out things" together. In a time when it's easy to feel hollowed out by institutional changes, your reflection(s) helps us remember what matters most: our capacity to see each other fully, to preserve what's essential, and to restore what's been taken away.

    I appreciate you, Lance.

    Bless up.
    drg

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    Replies
    1. thanks RG--you're reflection and sharing is always thoughtful and powerful! Thanks for being a partner in thinking and learning with me!

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