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Politics and Activism

The Truth About Being A Minority At A PWI

There is an unspoken part of our education.

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The Truth About Being A Minority At A PWI
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They will never know. It begins with orientation, when you enter that first room, eyes searching, searching, searching. Without even realizing you’re doing it, you are surveying the room for someone who looks like you. After a while, you know better than to expect it from the administration or the professors. You keep your eyes strictly on the students. You are asked where you are from. You learn there are "wrong" answers to that question. If no one shares your skin tone, you look for any other minority, anyone to occupy that space with you. Because everything about the space indicates it was not made for you.

The classroom is no different. It is often worse. You wait for your name to get butchered in roll call. Or to be asked to be called something else. Something that is not your name. When you’re the only one, you have a choice to make. If you speak up, you are speaking for all of your people. Not just your people, but all the other people who don’t look like Them. And then you’re told you’re angry, you’re wrong, you’re making it into something it’s not. Even if there’s two or three of you, you still have to decide without openly communicating who is going to take what role.

If you do not speak up, you are invisible. The other students will continue to share their ignorance, to speak lies about your truth. The professor probably will, too. You won’t want to say anything because you have no way of knowing who will support you. Or because it could impact your grade. Or because educators should know better, right?

That one student who thinks they get it will skew your truth and seek out your validation with probing, unencouraging stares. The ones that “get it” always want to be patted on the back for it. You don’t get to choose. You just have to get it. You’re living it. And if your professor gets it, they won't say it. Their eyes will beg you to speak, to relieve their burden and discomfort, to teach the other students even though you are not the one getting paid for it.

On the off-chance you do have a non-white professor, they are most likely tired. Not just tired like overworked, but tired as in the soul-deep fatigue of going through what you’re going through, but for a lot longer. As much as you want to be in this together, they have their own unpaid labor.

Every bad grade, every backhanded compliment, every slick remark that you receive, you have to ask yourself: is it because of your personality, your efforts, or your skin tone? Sometimes it’s all of those, sometimes it’s some of those, but that’s not the point. The fact that you even have to ask yourself is a reminder of a privilege you don’t have. This also goes for merit scholarships and financial aid.

Outside of the classroom, more learning takes place. In a lot of ways, it is no different.

You go to the culture centers. You hope it’s where you will find support and family. You do. It’s amazing how the centers breed solidarity and unity. Non-white cultures mix and share experiences. The handful of you cling to one another to preserve your culture however you can.

It’s amazing how the centers breed erasure and isolation. In the back of your head, you wonder if it’s so They can hide you away under the guise They call ‘diversity.’ Because inclusivity means we can include one another so They don’t have to include us.

The dining halls are spaces of flavorless sustenance. You’d give anything for the smell of your own kitchen or your own family gatherings back home. You often all sit together. In fact, you work so hard to stick together that you begin to question the ones who instead try to integrate. You can’t decide if it is jealousy or betrayal you feel at the thought of them. Don’t they miss it? What are you doing wrong?

The speakers they bring in don’t look like you either. Sometimes, the entertainers do. When you question this, you are told to “get involved.” The truth is that unless you’re in a club pertaining to your color or ethnicity, the experience is much like the classroom. Unless you’re an athlete. Then, in most cases, you’re expected to be superior.

Off campus is no different. They wear you as a theme for their next costume party, if you’re not already the school mascot. Even when the administration finds out, the “punishment” rarely combats the ignorance. You can’t even call it a punishment. You won’t get an apology, nevermind reparations.

At the parties, they’ll sing songs with words not meant for their lips. You’ll see how good it makes them feel. It will kill your buzz every time. That’s if they even play your kind of music at all. Racism and ignorance are more apparent when liquor is involved. If things get a little out of hand, you never want to be around when the police get called. They stop you randomly on campus as it is. They always need reassurance that you are a student. The line between your words and their weapon can be so thin.

Even after four years, you won't realize at what point you stopped calling yourself a minority, and started referring to yourself as "of color." And them? They will never know what it’s like to enter a room where no one looks like them.

They will still ask why there is no “White Student Union.” They will never know what it’s like to have their culture mocked, centuries of wounds constantly being re-opened. They will still assume you are in some Higher Education Opportunity Program as if that’s not also for them. They will still think you’re here for affirmative action or to make some quota. They will still wonder why you want your culture in their curriculum, your experiences told to their faculty and your people at their institution. They will probably still get your name wrong, even when they present you with awards. Perhaps even at graduation. They will certainly stare at your family at some point during graduation.

They will never know that’s why you are so damn tired. They will never know what it’s like. But you will. You will, and you have to believe that you are better for it.

Never forget you are not alone. Never forget your very presence is an act of resistance in their space. Never forget that a degree can never be taken from you. Never forget your success and your happiness is how we win.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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