My Trip To Eritrea... #ByWayOfSanJose

One of these days when yall start to care about my mental health, you’re going to stop posting these videos of children being brutalized in school houses. One of these days. Truth be told though, the brutality doesn’t end there. It just changes from the physical to the mental. Cause we ship them off to college and continue to injure them in all the places we cannot see, in the place they have to see a few times a week #everysemester #everyquarter #yearafteryear. We intellectually drag them every lecture period, play tug-o-war with their degrees, then when they have exerted the last ounce of might in their bones, we let them go…all the while, laughing. 

...and let Sallie Mae continue to drag them in indebtedness. 

I’m also sick, S.I.C.K. of these physics arguments about student behavior in schools, right? For every black girl that is thrown about the classroom, there’s a black boy that assaults an unsuspecting and totally awesome teacher doing such great work in this underserved neighborhood. Ain’t ish equal about these opposites. But that’s not even why I started to write this.

So here’s what happened. I went to a high school in south San José to observe a program. It’s a program we are thinking about using at the University, so like the good student development educator I aspire to be, I went to see it in action. Spoiler Alert: I didn’t do anything amazing while I was there. I did not change the world. Nor did I see the world change. Like, I wasn’t inspirational, amazing, or ANYTHING of the sort. So, um, don’t keep reading expecting that.

Anyway, where was I? Yea, the program. Well, as the content was being delivered, I noticed an African-American looking young girl. She was the only person who looked like herself in the room. At least until my colleague and I walked in during their lunch break. Like nobody else looked anything almost like her.

And wouldn’t you know, as luck would have it, that I would sit next to her. Gosh, she had such an adorable smile. It almost looked as if the world hadn’t happened to her. But I know better. She was the only one like herself in the room. So if the world hadn’t happened to her yet…it did this day.

Told Ya. Compliment. Obvs.

Her first words to me? I love your hair. It’s like how the women wear it in my culture.

I wished my first thought was How Sweet! but remember, life has happened so I knew better. I remembered back to that time when I was one of my kind. I was always finding a way to explain things that reminded me of my people in a way that would make sense to someone who could not fathom it. And honestly, wouldn’t put the energy in to even try. I realized then that it was in this environment where I learned a few things, #1 – I was an other… and #2 – That meant my job was to teach people about my otherness, and #3 – I wasn’t supposed to feel any kind of way about that #HigherLearning4DatArse.

High School was incredibly cruel that way #CollegeToo. It’s a wonder I didn’t snap back then in all those AP classes.

My reply? Thank you so much for that. *it was obvs a compliment* And what might you culture be, if you don’t mind my asking?

I hoped that my next thought would be this is going to be some awesome conversation where we both share our identities in this really safe space. You know, where we are both loved and appreciated for who we are #Yasssss #Learning #GrowthAndDevelopment #AndConnectingAndIsh. It was then I realized that being an other means you have to continually out yourself. If you don’t answer the questions, you’re not being nice. If you do answer the question, you’re going to have to answer 50 more to explain the answer you gave the first time. And I thought she must be incredibly exhausted already! You literally cain't win. #GetOutOfTheGameAlready

She answered I’m Eritrean.

I wanted her to feel like, OMG, this person is going to totally know where I’m from and all about my people, and we are going to exchange greetings in my native tongue and it is going to be amazing. Because, America. But you know better. I did too. We’re *America* responsible for Donald Trump & Ben Carson…so….

And she was right. I can’t draw the outline of Eritrea like I can the republic of Texas. I don’t know the history of her people like I do the wretched middle passage of mine (well some of those might be hers too, but you know what I mean…). And aside from the Queen’s English, a lil’ Trap, and Spanish under the influence of this, its best we just wave. And that’s totally definitely because, America.

But she wasn’t totally right #ButHellaClose. Because aside from this guy, I actually know a few Eritrean people. Not that one Eritrean friend. But actual friends, who are fantastic, and Eritrean. And I don’t claim to know everything about Eritrean people…but those friends? ’dem my people. I know ‘dem. So I told her ‘bout’em. LOL, there is nothing like that feeling. That ole'southern'auntie feeling, right? Ain't that baby "so-and-so's folks" type feeling. That was totally the look I had on my face. *i'm becoming my mother -_-*

One of my good friends is Eritrean. We actually just reconnected last month at a running even here in San José!

Her eyes lit up. She was so impressed. I knew she wanted to say more. To ask me more. To talk more. In her whole high school life, she ain’t never had a lady come into her classroom, sit next to her, and know her. But we were whispering to each other while the facilitator continued on – and realized we stole all the time we could.

She didn’t feel all of her otherness. Not in the way she did when I initially walked into that room. Sure we looked similar, but she didn’t know a thing about me until we began talking. She didn’t feel a connection to me, until we actually connected. Until I knew something about her – without her having to explain it to me first.

I imagine she needed that. I imagine that if she was on the brink of a classroom breakdown and someone she had a connection to *like the connection we made in that moment* was in the front of the classroom…I imagine she might have been more apt to ask for help. Or confide in that person. Or alert that person to what was going on. Or name what she needed. I imagine she would have trusted that person like me to fix it. Or even trusted that person like me when they said, I got you. Because, they would of had her.

We already know outliers exist. But those aren’t the people making our world a difficult place. It’s all the people who are quick to respond to those videos like Don Lemon #SunnyDruuugggggHimOnNationalTV #HeDefinitelyEarnedit #LikeTheWeeknd #AreYouGuysKiddingMe? #ThatWasAQuote #LetTheDraggingBegin. We don’t know what she did to deserve being dragged about the classroom like a ragdoll. We should wait until we figure out what she did wrong first, because no adult would do that with just because. Because a child can do something in a classroom sitting to deserve that #WhenMySeatedPresenceIsAViolentActOfRebellion.

Later this day I was talking to my colleague who was observing at the high school with me. I shared with her how I connected to that student. I keep being reminded of my purpose. How much it’s needed. And how necessary I am. Listen…this ain’t no I’m the ish, you need me, I’m Queen Bey(ish) type ish…but if somebody doesn’t go into these classrooms and starts being another with these kids drowning in their otherness, *like I once was #drowning #sinkingdeep* nothing will change.

Later that day, I had the opportunity to speak with students about the importance of diversity and inclusion in Higher Education. About the importance of seeing images of people who look like them dutifully integrated into their academic pursuits. How those active and engaged images help to make meaning for their work in the classroom and their trajectory beyond the classroom. An Indian student remarked that having a female Indian faculty member in her Political Science program has positively impacted her performance. That faculty member is her academic advisor now.

You need another to swim. You need another to survive. You need another, because, when you start to drown *we all do at some point* where else will you get a lifeline?

Who better than me?

When better than now?

Why better than just be-freakin-cause.

And why it took me so long to get to this place, I will never know.

But #KnowingBetter #DoingBetterAsIType…