I had the pleasure of being forwarded a link by a colleague that opened my eyes to the powerful social media campaign a Harvard sophomore has launched titled "I, Too, Am Harvard." It seems her white, collegiate peers (through an article written against the college's affirmative action policy) have challenged her and every other racial minorities place on campus.
To earn a place at one of the most prestigious college's in the country is no small feat and doesn't come without sacrifice. She is a part of that ivy league and her place there should not be questioned any more or quicker than any white student's place. Black Americans built this country with their backs. Our place should not be questioned any more or any quicker than any white citizen's place.
So I applaud her effort. I applaud her boldness. I, too, am tired.
I am tired of the backhanded "compliments" I receive from colleagues as they praise the education I received at predominately white institutions. The "you speak so well"'s and the "you're always so articulate"'s really take a toll on you after working at a place for over a year.
I am tired of the well-intentioned colleagues who visit me at the coffee pot--the one's who always find a way to slip in "I don't see race" in regular conversation as if I should be impressed at how "liberal" and progressive they are.
Let me be clear: I don't believe in race. I believe it's a biological fallacy. What I know though, is that it's a cultural reality. It is a powerful, cultural force that drives perception. And what they don't understand is that telling me you don't see race when I am fully conscious everyday I walk into my district that I am the only black employee of the entire school system devalues my cultural experience, here. This black they supposedly don't see is why all the black kids sit together in the cafeteria and why it's impossible to feel connected even amongst smiles. Because white people who can't see that being black in America is fundamentally different than being white can't acknowledge their own privilege. And those rose-colored glasses aren't the same lens I see out of.
These are the same colleagues that when my students say they're hungry, ask if there is food at home and not if they'd like a snack like they do the other kids. The same ones who assume all my students
are on free and reduced lunch because of course; being black and living in the city is synonymous with being poor. These are the ones who call me to ask me to call mothers about missed homework instead of doing their due diligence like they would for their white students because I can "relate" better. Because my race will help me talk elementary math fact fluency, obviously.
And the lost goes on and on and on.
The fact is that these micro-aggressions are not uncommon. Any minority isolated anywhere with a majority without cultural proficiency will experience them. It's the difference between feeling accepted and being tolerated. The difference between feeling like you can bring your whole self to work because your colleagues understand all black folks aren't the same and only serving fragments because you ARE the diversity and therefore are acting as sole representative.
It's the difference between being yourself and listening to all genres of music, from all over the world because you're multi-faced and never, ever trying to get caught playing a single rap or rhythm and blues record in your office for fear of proving a point that you KNOW is ridiculous.
White people think they are paying you a damn compliment when they tell you they can't see your blackness because in their eyes it makes total sense that you wouldn't WANT them to. America makes 'blackness' a social condition that you need to free yourself of as best you can in order to progress. But as i've grown older I realize that being black is as important a qualifier in my life as being young, as being a feminist, as being a teacher. I realized a long time ago that my opinion, my self worth, my freedom and my integrity were my most prized possessions. My love for who I am and where I come from is unwaivering. But Nikki Giovanni in her poem 'Nikki-Rosa' said it best when she said "I really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me because they never understand that black love is black wealth and they'll probably talk about my hard childhood and ever understand that all the while I was quite happy."
Anyone who can't understand that it is possible to be both black and happy or both unapologetically black and successful have bigger issues than being blind to blackness, clearly.
Just my truth.
