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.
...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…
