As Bucknellians we all have an idea of what the “typical” Bucknell woman looks like. Maybe she is tall, maybe she is thin, athletic, blonde, etc, but she is most likely one thing: white. Our conformity to this stereotype and the point of view it provides leaves women of color out of the picture. Black women at Bucknell have a unique experience that is too often erased by the white majority on campus. To shed some light on this experience, here are the thoughts of a few Bucknell women on how their gender and race affect their lives on campus.
“To me being a black woman on this campus means many things. We’re your mother and sister figures, we’re your deep thinkers, we’re your conversation initiators and campus organizers, we bridge your gaps and listen to your side of the story. We’re such positive things. Such tired, stressful things. When does a black woman just get to be a student?” -Anonymous
Amarachi Ekekwe, ’18
“Being a black women on Bucknell’s campus is like having an ongoing asthma attack.”
Kendra Spruill, ’17
“Sometimes on this campus it’s tiring, but overall I am very proud to be a black woman on campus. Many people do not understand how black hair works, so they are confused with how I could have a different length or texture every week. I feel like I am able to embrace my culture more here, compared to being at a place where everyone looks like me. Sometimes it is hard to be proud when you’re the only person that looks like you in a classroom, but I consider it more of a blessing than a curse. Without being proud and embracing my differences, I may not have been in the position to graduate this spring. I am very happy with my achievements and wouldn’t have done anything different with my experiences at this school.”
Ella Tazuana Johnson, ’17
“1. Shout out to the white boy(s) who only wanted to hook up with me for the “black experience” during my first couple years at Bucknell. I’ll definitely never make that incompetent mistake again and haven’t since.
2. Bitch I’m beautiful. I’ve been here for too long and have questioned my “blackness”, my facial and other physical features, my skin tone, my femininity and masculinity, and my worth as a woman of color(s) at Bucknell. I don’t need nor do I really want the validation of [white] peers telling me that I’m “pretty for a black girl” or that I “look so ethnic when I have an afro” or that “I’m so articulate” or that I’m “strong and independent…yada yada yada.” I cut my hair to prove to myself that black women can still be beautiful without a head full of hair, and ain’t nothing anyone can tell me otherwise.
3. Code-switching has been one of the most fortunate things I’ve been able to do with the different ethnic communities I belong to, and I’m grateful to not have to speak Standard American English (SAE) everywhere, cus it’s pretty exhausting to have to talk to like over 75% of the population in that way. SAE is also one of the most ugliest accents for real, for real. AAVE is life.
4. A lot of my internal thoughts for when other groups of people assume or don’t understand why I don’t know who ABBA or Bob Dylan is, or to have grown up with the Beatles or Elton John or something, or people who “don’t see race”, or people who don’t understand hair extensions, or people who don’t understand how to season food, or people who wonder why I keep my hands up and in the open near police officers or inside any store, is for me basically to say “IT’S CUS I’M BLACK”. Probably doesn’t make sense to some of ya’ll though.”
“I feel like I constantly have to prove people wrong. That I am smart enough. That I can succeed in life. That I’m not just here to help Bucknell reach its diversity quota.” -Anonymous
Nneoma Ibezim, Ella Tazuana Johnson, Zoe Russell, and Mary Oluokun singing at the Kwanzaa dinner, Fall 2015.
Danielle Taylor, ’17
I’ve always been Black.
I’ve always been a woman.
I’m used to being in the minority.
However, this world’s choice to subjugate me has always been its problem.
I won’t let it become mine.
Being a Black woman is a gift.
I can eggo trip like Nikki Giovanni,
Pull my seat up to the table like Solange,
And refuse to get up like Rosa.
I can run through barriers like Wilma Rudolph
And bring correction to miseducation like Lauryn Hill.
Study to show myself approved like Fannie Lou
And forsake everything I know to give my children everything they know, like… my grandmother.
Resilience is in our blood,
And we’re rooted in magic.
Destiny’s Children.
I’m honored to be a Black woman.
This campus will never change that.