Bus route 15 passes through Bayview-Hunters Point: a neighborhood of endless warehouses, a single grocery store amidst a plethora of liquor shops, littered streets and the occasional abandoned shopping cart filled with belongings obstructing the road.

In 1963, 80% of the community was Black. Known as “Little Harlem,” it was the epicenter of Black culture, resilience and solidarity. Today, it still is, with a Black population of 23% — the largest in the city.

However, the area wasn’t always disenfranchised; it underwent profound changes following World War II and during the Civil Rights Movement, as systemic redlining dismantled economic opportunities. The solution is education; we must fundamentally revolutionize curriculum for marginalized communities to resolve the conventional model that fails to confront inequities that disproportionately disadvantage impoverished students. 

In the late 1800s, the community was primarily Chinese immigrants working in the shrimp fishing industry. However, during World War II, the Navy saw the waterfront as an ideal location for their ships and evicted the Chinese community along with their shrimping facilities — evicted, as in, burned their shacks and docks. Displaced to other neighborhoods, residents faced further discriminatory policies like the Laundry Ordinance, specifically targeting Chinese-run laundries. To sustain their shrimp fishing practices, many relocated to Los Angeles, abandoning their homes, businesses, and families.

During the Great Migration in the 1940s, Black individuals fleeing the Jim Crow South settled in Bayview-Hunters Point, attracted by San Francisco’s booming wartime industries. The neighborhood quickly diversified with the influx of Black laborers and railroad workers. Specifically, the U.S. Navy’s $97 million investment in the Hunters Point Shipyard significantly expanded the population. Housing projects followed, cementing Bayview-Hunters Point as a crucial center for Black families both during and after the war.

The Hunters Point Shipyard was instrumental, loading components for the atomic bomb “Little Boy.” After the 1946 atomic tests at Bikini Atoll, contaminated ships were brought to the shipyard, where workers sandblasted radioactive materials. Today, contaminants like radon persist, polluting the soil, water and air.

Arieann Harrison is CEO of the Marie Harrison Community Foundation, a nonprofit championing racial, environmental, and economic justice in Bayview-Hunters Point and beyond. She continues the legacy of her late mother, Marie Harrison, who moved to Bayview-Hunters Point as a teenager to work at the Hunters Point Naval Shipyard. As a fierce leader, Marie successfully shut down the radioactive PG&E plant. She died from idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a result of the area’s pollution.

“The shelf life of radiation is 16,000 years,” Harrison said. “It wasn’t the Navy directly. It was the contractor, Tetra Tech. They came with some faulty samples and said, ‘Hey, these are clean samples, but if I get them from the place I’m supposed to get it from, it’s dirty, right?’ Because they want to be able to justify putting something pretty on top of a mess.”

Harrison continued, mentioning that there are now housing complexes built on top of radioactive land.

“They came up positive and radon is a really bad isotope,” Harrison said. “It creates cancer. They know that, period. But they said it was reading low. But what is reading low? What methodology are you utilizing? So this means that you’re getting a little dose of poison every day, right? There’s a huge liability for anyone to admit today that anybody’s been affected in a negative way. They don’t expect for poor people to know when that is anyway, right?”

By the late 1960s, wartime housing built in the 1940s had deteriorated. Tenants, facing poor conditions, rising unemployment and a lack of opportunity, felt abandoned. Ollie Wallace, an evicted maintenance worker, catalyzed mass sit-ins and protests against the housing authority. In 1966, the predominantly Black community suffered unemployment rates as high as 25%. The shipyard’s closure in 1974 exacerbated this statistic.

Relegated to an isolated area on a hill, this disadvantaged community became disconnected from the rest of San Francisco. As soldiers returned from the war and used their GI Bill benefits, college enrollment and the development of white suburbia surged. The new wave of urbanization excluded people of color, particularly Black people. As resources shifted to the suburbs, redlined communities like Bayview-Hunters Point were left to decay.

Decades later, the community remains impacted, now compounded with the challenges of gentrification.

We live in a society that is economically and racially divided — particularly in our schools. In California, the White-Black segregation index between schools in 2022 was .45, or moderate to highly segregated.

Malcolm X Academy is an elementary school in Bayview-Hunters Point.

• Student population: 61.9% are African American, 18.1% are two or more races, 4.8% are Pacific Islanders, 8.6% are Hispanic/Latino, 1% are Filipino and 1.9% are white. 
• 87.3% of the students are socioeconomically disadvantaged.
• Although the school is renovating to meet Americans with Disabilities Act requirements, the conditions of the bathrooms are poor: one stall and one sink, without a proper mirror. The classrooms are evidently outdated and lacking.

Although the school reports low in both English and math standards (8% met or exceeded math standards, 0% met or exceeded science standards and 12% met or exceeded English Language Arts standards as of 2023), the students exhibit a fierce desire to learn. These qualities, however, are stifled by systemic racial and economic inequality that is inherited and perpetuated to keep minorities disenfranchised. 

Poverty describes a state of being poor, but it is just as much a mental condition. In James Baldwin’s film, “Take This Hammer,” documenting his visit to Bayview-Hunters Point in 1963, he said “better housing in the ghetto is simply not possible. You can build a few better plans, but you can’t do anything about the moral and physiological effects of being in the ghetto. Everybody living in those housing projects is just as endangered as ever before by all the things the ghetto means.” 

I refuse to accept that these kids are destined for a life of struggle, but I also cannot ignore their vulnerability to the reality that surrounds them. The first page search results for the area are dominated by questions like, “How bad is it really?” Google’s recommended searches include terms like “dangerous” and “crime.” Adding “shooting” to the neighborhood’s name yields countless pages detailing fatalities.  

“You can get cross in the crossfire,” Harrison said. “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. A big portion of injustice in dealing with the police, because they take advantage of people in isolated communities. You gotta be afraid of the people that hang together, and the communities that aren’t necessarily doing the right thing while fearing the police. People in the housing units and the kids are stuck. How do I report something if I live here? They’re not gonna move me. There’s no protection program for people that want things to change.”

With just one pediatrician serving thousands of children, a single park, minimal opportunities for recreation and few local employment options — poverty is not simply the absence of resources; it fundamentally restricts the scope of experience. During an engineering lesson on bridge design and structural integrity, many Malcolm X Academy students revealed they had never seen the Golden Gate Bridge, a defining landmark of their own city.

Kari, a fourth grader, gave me a scenario: if someone shoots you in your leg, do you shoot back? I struggled to answer. Later that day, students were unable to walk home due to gun activity in the area. Violence and fear are unrelenting. It becomes impossible to prioritize that looming math assignment when survival is at the forefront of a child’s mind.

I don’t believe that test scores define the true quality of a school — how well does it nurture and educate its students? However, they do reflect inadequate resources, racial discrimination and socioeconomic barriers crushing dreams before they can take flight. Jerome, an exceptional student from Malcolm X Academy in Bayview-Hunters Point, was thrilled when I introduced the idea of teaching him computer science. But Jerome doesn’t have regular access to a computer. At nine years old, he can’t walk himself to the library on Third Street. His lack of access to technology is more than an obstacle; it’s a devastating blow to his potential. 

“And if you were an older kid, you had to take care of yourself and your siblings, right?” Harrison said. “Why? Mom and dad were at work. There’s a terminology called latchkey kids. When I think about that terminology, I’m thinking about dad’s gone at work. He might be working one or two jobs. Mom is gone. She’s at school and working too. But I’m the oldest, and I have two siblings, right? So I know how to wash dishes, how to take care of them, where the food is, and it’s my job to make sure those kids are fed, and I’m watching them. Most of our kids, when they start school at a very young age, they’ve never been in a school setting before, so they end up getting misdiagnosed, right?”

In a 2006 paper about disproportionate numbers of Black and Hispanic students in special education, the American Psychological Association published a list of five categories that informed and/or influenced the placement of students:

1. Administrators’ impression of the family.
2. A focus on student’s deficit rather than classroom management.
3. Teacher’s unofficial diagnoses; disability definitions and criteria.
4. Psychologists’ philosophical positions.
5. Pressure from mandated testing to place students in special education. 

A 2005 paper about segregation in education argues that special education, shaped by social markers imposed by educators and administrators, has become a covert form of racial segregation.

Over one-third of youth in juvenile court and Youth Authority Schools receive special education services, and together with those in foster care, they make up 52% of the student population in these schools, according to a 2024 paper published by Stanford University.

Such labels are harmful, particularly when we rely on teacher diagnosis. Stigmatizing students with disabilities or behavioral problems may lead to poor achievement due to low expectations. Moreover, once labeled, students may be placed in alternative school, a segregated setting, with limited access to traditional and general education curriculum and perceived ‘normal’ peers. This restricts exposure to challenging academic content and further reinforces the idea of being “different” and “less capable.”  

Additionally, “exclusionary disciplinary practices (suspensions and expulsions) have been linked with truancy, lower levels of self-esteem, and poor academic performance,” according to a 2021 Stanford paper about the segregation and criminalization of Black students labeled as disabled. 

The effects of systemic marginalization, such as biases in educational diagnosis and exclusionary practices, create a cycle of disadvantage that is perpetuated by poverty.

Poverty is a paradox: those vulnerable to financial hardship incur additional costs while trying to meet their basic needs. They rely on transportation for jobs (lack of local opportunity), with childcare expenses (affording to stay at home is a privilege). This burden exists beyond finances; it’s mentally exhausting. The constant struggle for survival precedes all else.

An equitable approach to education is the solution.

In 1973, the Black Panther Party founded the Oakland Community School, providing education for predominantly Black low-income children. They took a revolutionary approach to education by implementing their philosophy of “each one, teach one” through a 12-level system based on academic performance rather than age. Consequently, students learned from each other continuously, avoiding the conventional race to meet standardized benchmarks. Their Youth Committee, composed of elected student representatives from each level, ensured that every voice contributed to shaping the school’s direction.

Teachers taught students how to think, not what to think. Central to this model was the freedom of the student — learning wasn’t confined to the teacher’s instruction. Students were encouraged to exercise self-determination, with the teacher’s role evolving from authority figure to facilitator. This shift rebalanced the traditional power dynamic, acknowledging every perspective is equally valuable. The school understood James Baldwin’s assertion that “as one becomes conscious, they begin to examine the society in which they are being educated.” The Oakland Community School empowered students to critique society by first questioning the classroom itself. This system promoted critical thinking by urging students to challenge the status quo, developing ideas that can reshape their education and society.

Students most at risk of becoming disillusioned are those who haven’t been indoctrinated with the belief that academic success is essential. Instead, their life experiences have been primarily influenced by the need to meet societal expectations for two main reasons: ensuring survival and aligning with cultural norms. This group disproportionately includes minorities who often subconsciously prioritize these concerns.

The student who walks into class late and neglects their assignments doesn’t just lack interest in their academic work; it’s indicative of deeper concerns — like the need to be cool, to have some leverage within a hierarchy that has marginalized minorities — people like them. The punitive response from the school, like detention, fails to address underlying issues. Rather it labels them a “bad” student.

The Black Panther Party understood education must prepare students to succeed beyond the classroom by allowing children to take ownership of their learning. Understanding students’ unique circumstances is essential; a one-size-fits-all curriculum is ineffective across different schools. Change begins with evaluating local schools and advocating for increased resources and therefore opportunities for our youth. 

But more importantly than simply reforming schools, we need to address the underlying conditions that facilitate poor outcomes (low test scores, low graduation rates/college readiness) — poverty. There are five key areas we must improve:

1. Affordable housing expansion: increase the supply of affordable housing in well-resourced areas. Inclusionary zoning to help integrate low-income families into higher-opportunity neighborhoods.
2. Access to credit and homeownership: expand access to loans for homeownership and small businesses.
3. Fix California’s Local Control Funding Formula: School funding should not be tied to attendance. While it may seem like an effective way to promote regular attendance, this model penalizes students from low-income families. They are more likely to face transportation issues, chronic illnesses — often linked to food deserts where unhealthy options are abundant and access to recreational facilities/walkable routes is limited — and housing instability. In areas with higher crime rates, safety concerns also reduce school attendance. Schools serving high-risk populations, like alternative schools for homeless students or those who have previously dropped out, face even greater challenges. These students tend to have higher rates of absenteeism, leading to less funding, despite the fact that they require more support/resources.
4. Restitution for redlined communities: Reparations. 
5. Protect against gentrification: Rent control measures and develop projects that genuinely support residents rather than displacing them.

I often contemplate how radically different lives could be had they felt supported instead of cynical in school. We owe it to these children to give them a real chance.

A heartfelt thank you to Ms. Harrison for her visionary ideas and lifelong dedication to advancing equity.

Jacqueline Ishimoto is a senior at Burlingame High School focused on systemic inequities in education. She leads literacy and STEM initiatives in Bayview-Hunters Point, analyzing the impact of funding disparities on student outcomes. Her work bridges hands-on teaching with policy critique, advocating for data-driven reforms that expand access to quality education.