Heather Fleming, sitting on a bench in St. Louis鈥� Forest Park, takes in the view on a warm early afternoon in February.
Behind her is the Jewel Box, the giant glass-paneled greenhouse that鈥檚 a park emblem. Before her are rows of tall trees, their branches stripped bare. And further on, on nearby walkways and trails, is a steady single-file flow of joggers, walkers and cyclists 鈥� humans of all ages, sizes, shapes and colors.
Fleming has been coming here nearly her whole life, since she was a little girl growing up in one of St. Charles County鈥檚 relatively few black families.
One reason she likes this spot is because it offers a vision of the future she鈥檚 spent her life imagining.
Fleming, 46, worked 13 years as a high school English teacher, and worked another three years as an equity and diversity consultant.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 why I like Forest Park so much,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t seems the one place in St. Louis that鈥檚 neutral. There鈥檚 so much of St. Louis that has been steeped in racism, that it鈥檚 almost palpable.鈥�
But here, in this corner of town, Forest Park is 鈥渁 testament to what I hope all of St. Louis can become,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a place where you get lots of different types of people and lots of different types of experiences鈥o why can鈥檛 we do that everywhere?鈥�
It is a question that weighs on Fleming these days as her vision of an inclusive America is being challenged like never before in her lifetime.
Fleming is the founder of Missouri Equity Education Partnership, which nearly a year ago started as an informal Facebook group.
It has since grown into the spearhead of a coalition of local groups pushing back against school district book bans, as well as efforts in Jefferson City to pass a deluge of bills to exert greater control over the ways race, gender and history are taught in Missouri classrooms.
And it has had an immediate impact.
Case in point: In a 4-3 decision back in January, the Wentzville School Board banned eight books, including 鈥淭he Bluest Eye鈥� by Toni Morrison after some parents complained it is not suitable for kids and contains 鈥済raphic sexual violence.鈥�
The Morrison book, published in 1970, is about Pecola, a black girl growing up in rural Ohio during the World War II era. She wants blue eyes because she鈥檚 told she鈥檚 鈥渦gly鈥� because of her dark skin. The target of many previous attempts to ban it from school libraries nationwide, the novel explores the themes of racism, incest, rape and out-of-wedlock pregnancy.
Fleming partnered with the St. Louis bookstore EyeSeeMe to deliver free copies to anyone who requested it.
Mo. EEP raised more than $3,000 in the first few hours after launching the book program on January 27. Three weeks later, the program had raised more than $19,000 and sent out nearly 600 copies of the 鈥淏luest Eye,鈥� Fleming said.
Ultimately, the Wentzville book ban backfired, said Fleming, who previously taught English at Parkway North High School.
鈥淲hat is really happening is that it鈥檚 alerting people to the underlying malignancy of this whole thing,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 starting to wake more people up.鈥�
In late February the Wentzville Board of Education held a special meeting and voted to rescind their decision to remove the 鈥淏luest Eye.鈥�
鈥樷�othing around me represented me or included me鈥�
Fleming said she always knew she wanted to be a teacher.
Growing up in St. Charles, Fleming has many good memories of school. But they are tempered by the fact she always felt, at least in the classroom, as an outsider. When she graduated from St. Charles West High School nearly 30 years ago, she was one of only five black students out of a class of almost 400, she said.
鈥淎nd I think that鈥檚 why I鈥檓 passionate about this,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 that I know that experience of feeling like nothing around me represented me or included me.鈥�
Fleming has an older sister and a much younger brother. Her parents are solidly middle class: her father worked as a production manager at the Airwick Industries plant in St. Peters, while her mother worked as an office assistant at McDonnell Douglas aircraft company in St. Louis.
In seventh grade, Fleming invited her best friend at the time, a white girl, to come to her house for a sleepover.
鈥淎nd the day of, she called me and said her dad didn鈥檛 want her staying at any black people鈥檚 house,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淭he reality is that as black people we deal with a lot of those things. So we don鈥檛 have the luxury of saying it鈥檚 all colorblind.鈥�
Married with two grown sons and a 13-year-old daughter in middle school, Fleming began teaching English at Parkway North High School in 2005. Soon, she began teaching salary credit courses for fellow teachers on diversity and inclusion.
鈥淢ostly what I taught is, 鈥楬ow do we allow all stories into a room?鈥� It鈥檚 actually giving empathy to anyone who can be other鈥檈d,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t was allowing each person to feel like they were a valued part of the classroom.鈥�
Fleming started her equity training company, In Purpose Educational Services, in 2018, when she approached a crossroad in her life.
After earning a master鈥檚 degree in school administration, Fleming said she interviewed for eight school administration jobs 鈥� and got turned down for each one.
鈥淚 can鈥檛 tell you how many times I was told a white male candidate was a better fit,鈥� she said.
So, she said, she prayed on the matter, and realized she needed to make a big change.
鈥淜ind of the question that came to me was, If you could be doing anything, and money wasn鈥檛 a consideration, what would it be?鈥� she said. 鈥淚t was equity work.鈥�
Educational 鈥榞ag orders鈥�
While Fleming鈥檚 advocacy has shown results at the local level, her coalition has also trained its focus on action in Jefferson City 鈥� specifically, a spate of bills Fleming views as educational gag orders seeking to undermine public trust and prevent honest discussions of unpleasant topics like America鈥檚 history of slavery and the Tulsa Race Massacre.
Supporters of these measures call them overdue reforms that will bolster accountability and transparency in Missouri classrooms. They argue the goal is simply to ensure parental rights are being respected.
State Rep. Doug Richey, chairman of the legislature鈥檚 Joint Education Committee and the sponsor of one of the bills, said his goal is to improve public education, not harm it.
鈥淚鈥檓 not a grenade thrower,鈥� said Richey, R-Excelsior Springs. 鈥淚鈥檓 someone who believes it鈥檚 important to do what鈥檚 necessary, but I鈥檓 not looking to burn down the institution and celebrate that I鈥檝e done something. That doesn鈥檛 help anybody.鈥�
Fleming doesn鈥檛 buy it.
鈥淭he real impact will be that as teachers attempt to discuss these issues, they鈥檙e going to be fearful of perhaps saying something that violates one of these laws,鈥� Fleming said. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e going either a) avoid it altogether or b) have such a sanitized version that it鈥檚 not the truth.鈥�
At a Jan. 11 House Education Committee hearing in Jefferson City centered on the first wave of education bills this legislative session, Fleming showed up with nearly 150 supporters to pack the hearing room. What鈥檚 more, the 1,600 emailed testimonies from other witnesses 鈥� the vast majority opposed to the bills 鈥� set a record for the sheer number of written testimonies submitted.
The two GOP bills that drew Fleming and her supporters were Richey鈥檚 and , sponsored by Rep., R-O鈥橣allon. The bills were combined into a 鈥淧arents鈥� Bill of Rights,鈥� with a section restricting the teaching of critical race theory, a decades-old academic framework that focuses on the idea that race and racism permeate America鈥檚 institutions and hurt people of color.
Republicans deride CRT as divisive and formulated to make white kids feel ashamed about their forebears鈥� treatment of minority groups. Educators such as Fleming, however, argue there鈥檚 no evidence CRT is being taught in any Missouri classrooms.
In response to the show of public opposition, Richey said language specifically citing CRT was removed from the bill, though it still refers to several topic areas that would be prohibited in the classroom, such as making students feel 鈥渃ollective guilt鈥� for their ancestors鈥� misdeeds
鈥淭he language we鈥檝e landed on now closes the door to that kind of chilling effect,鈥� Richey said.
Pushback
Soon after the Wentzville book ban took effect back in January, the ACLU of Missouri filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court in St. Louis on behalf of two Wentzville school district students.
The civil liberties group sought to stop the removal of the books on the grounds 鈥渢he decisive factor in the decisions to remove the Banned Books was dislike of the ideas or opinions contained in the books by policymakers, school officials, community members, or a combination of those,鈥� according to the lawsuit.
As for rescinding the district ban on 鈥淭he Bluest Eye,鈥� Anthony Rothert, the ACLU鈥檚 director of integrated advocacy, called it 鈥渨elcome news,鈥� but added the ban remains in effect for the other books, while the district鈥檚 鈥減olicies make it easy for any community member to force any book from the shelves even when they shamelessly target books by and about communities of color, LGBTQ people and other marginalized groups.鈥�
Fleming鈥檚 efforts to challenge the book ban and to raise money to purchase the banned books for students who want to read them has led to a flood of abuse on TikTok, Facebook and other social media, she said.
鈥淎t this point I鈥檝e been told I鈥檓 pro-pornography, pro-molestation and pro-incest,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd that鈥檚 a ridiculous claim. What I am for is the ability to teach kids that there are so many experiences, and not all of them are going to be good.鈥�
In October, a member of Concerned Parents of Rockwood, filed a consumer complaint against Fleming and Mo. EEP with Missouri Attorney General Eric Schmitt鈥檚 office.
The woman alleged that Fleming used Mo. EEP 鈥渢o disparage, silence and publicly shame parents鈥� in the Rockwood district.
Fleming denies the allegations. Schmitt鈥檚 office has not moved on the complaint.
Critical Race Theory
What鈥檚 happening in Jefferson City is being echoed nationwide.
Since Jan. 2021, nearly 160 鈥渆ducational gag order鈥� bills have been introduced or prefiled in 39 states, according to PEN America, a group that represents authors.
The measures span a wide gamut, from Florida鈥檚 鈥淒on鈥檛 Say Gay鈥� bill, which would prohibit public K-12 teachers from 鈥渆ncourag[ing] classroom discussion about sexual orientation or gender identity鈥� in primary grade levels,鈥� to efforts working through the Indiana and Iowa legislatures to place cameras in classrooms so that parents can view livestreams of their children and keep teachers under constant surveillance.
To Fleming, the engine behind these efforts is fueled by shifting demographics.
America is on its way to becoming a majority-minority nation at the same time its white population is shrinking. After centuries of dominance, white people will become a numerical minority over the course of the next generation. A lot of Americans are unhappy with that prospect, she said.
鈥淲hen you can suddenly activate that fear in the majority that one day, because they might be a minority, they might be treated like minorities,鈥� she said.
Critical Race Theory is an academic framework that few people outside law schools and graduate programs had heard of before mid-2020.
But since then it has become a rallying cry for conservatives who believe CRT is inherently divisive. In their minds, CRT has infiltrated classrooms with the aim of making white kids feel ashamed about unpleasant chapters in the American story.
Fleming denies that CRT is being taught in Missouri K-12 classrooms. They say attacks on it are part of an effort to turn CRT into an umbrella term that covers any serious attempt to teach about race, gender and racism in America.
Johnnie Calloway, a spokesman for the nonprofit Missouri Prosper, said schools should refrain from teaching about systemic or institutional racism.
His organization, according to its website, consists of a 鈥済roup of parents dedicated to creating strong communities where families and individuals can have the opportunity to prosper and self-govern.鈥�
鈥淚t has nothing to do with race at this point,鈥� said Calloway, who is Black. 鈥淢uch respect to Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights movement, but it鈥檚 disingenuous to say in 2022 that race is stopping anybody from being successful.鈥�
During public testimony before the legislature鈥檚 Joint Committee on Education last August, witnesses noted a survey by the Missouri Department of Elementary and Secondary Education to determine how many schools were teaching critical race theory.
Of the 425 Missouri schools that responded to the DESE survey, only one indicated it includes lessons about critical race theory.
Richey, based on his discussions with parents and school officials around the state, said he鈥檚 not surprised only one school district acknowledged teaching some aspect of CRT.
鈥淲hen you ask the question that is more fitting for a K-12 school district, that number increases significantly because now you鈥檙e talking about using the assumptions of critical race theory,鈥� he said.
He declined to cite specific evidence during an interview to support his assertions that CRT is being taught in Missouri classrooms, instead pointing to the goals of his bill.
鈥淭his is a bill that is responding to the fact that we do have public school districts supported by public tax dollars that are utilizing some of these concepts,鈥� he said, 鈥渁nd that needs to stop.鈥�
鈥楢 different future for America鈥�
On a Saturday morning in late February more than 70 people gather outside the entrance to University City High School, located just outside of St. Louis. They have shown up for a 鈥淩ally for Truth in Education,鈥� sponsored by Metropolitan Congregations United, a close Mo. EEP ally.
The mood is upbeat and energized. A series of speakers, including some high school students, read sections from an open letter to the Missouri General Assembly that call for the repudiation of the Richey bill.
A young woman, reading off a copy of the letter, tells her audience that a culturally 鈥渞esponsive education is student-centered and reflects students鈥� experiences. A public school should be where every student sees their identity included, represented, respected and honored.鈥�
Lisa Thompson, a member of MCU鈥檚 education task force, tells the crowd the message has gotten out that most people will support equity and inclusion 鈥渁nd they will rise up and defend it.鈥�
So the sponsors of HB 1995 changed the focus, she said.
鈥淣ow it鈥檚 called parents鈥� rights,鈥� she said. 鈥淲ho can oppose that? Parents should have rights, right? This language is a sneaky smokescreen for giving parents rights they already had, which also encourages a feeling of mistrust between parents and teachers.鈥�
After an hour the rally ends and most of the crowd disperses. Fleming hangs back to talk to fellow Mo. EEP members. They climb a few steps to pose for a group photo, then break up.
Fleming acknowledges it鈥檚 possible HB 1995 could be passed into law, but if that happens she and the movement she leads won鈥檛 give up, she said.
鈥淲e鈥檙e going to be successful in the end because we have enough people that care, that are passionate about this鈥� she said. 鈥淏ecause as we can tell by that rally, there are so many people that imagine a different future for America.鈥�
is part of States Newsroom, a network of news outlets supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Missouri Independent maintains editorial independence.
Mike Fitzgerald is a freelance writer who lives in the St. Louis area. Reach him at msfitzgerald2006@gmail.com.
