Growing up in New York, I’ve always been exposed to culture. Jamaicans, Zoes (Haitians), Dominicans, and Asians New York has us all. Due to my Caribbean safe haven, it was not until I was a junior in high school that I really felt what it means to be black in America.
To paint this eye-opening canvas for you, let’s start with some background. My high school was pretty diverse, it was just as populated with black students as it was with white students along with a significant percentage of Asian students. During a business elective, I was conversation with a friend of mine (one of the only 3 other black students in this class). We’re having a conversation about a recent death caused by police brutality. A classmate of mine, joined in the conversation by adding “cops put their life on the line”. Immediately, asked her if that meant that Eric Gardner deserved to die? She responded with “Well, he did commit other crimes”. I informed her that he was not killed because he committed other crimes, he was killed because he was black at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Another classmate chimed in to say, “How can we be racist if our president is Black?”. Now, personally, this is one of my favorite lines. It completely ignores the fact that there were many people who did not vote for President Obama for the sole reason he was Black, that there was a large scandal questioning President Obama’s birthplace trying to prove him ineligible for the position, and the blatantly racist protesters disapproving his victory all proving that people are still racist.
She went on to say that Black people are racist too. My response to that was that black cannot be racist, prejudice, but not racist. I broke down that racism is a system based on oppression, and being that white people are the only people with enough power to oppress, they are the only candidates to be racist.
Now y’all, I’m going to need to brace yourselves for the most flabbergasting comment I have ever heard. A girl shouted from across the room. “RACISM MEANS PRIDE IN ONE’S RACE! IT’S NOT ABOUT OPPRESSION”
See, y’all, I was so taken back; genuinely offended by her ignorance.
The only thing I could do was look at my desk and ask myself “Is this b**** serious?”. After taking a brief moment to reflect on the foolishness my ears were just subject to. I turned to her to say, “When have you ever heard some say: “GREAT JOB HEATHER! YOU’RE SO RACIST!” Never, right? Because it’s not a good thing, it is something that used to suppress others. It is a tool designed to enable some and disable most.” She looked at me as red as a tomato, stunned that I had just questioned her entire theory of what racism is.
Soon after, the same classmate that made a comment about President Barack Obama, had the nerve to be offended, as if she did not just act like racism is not one of the biggest problems terrifying our nation for centuries. She made a few comments loud enough for me to hear but soft enough for me not to each word explicitly. So, asked her if she was speaking to me? We went back and forth for a little while. The teacher, Blake Maliza, finally decided that this conversation should end. I stopped speaking but my classmate did not. The teacher than asked me to go outside with him. And y’all, let me tell you what this man told me.
He started with, “I know you want to have the last word.”
First of all, as we were outside, my classmate was still speaking. Immediately, I knew how this conversation was going to go, and at this point I tuned him out, as I thought out my next move. When he was done with his condescending little speech, he told me to calm down, take a walk, and go get a drink of water. I told him I was going to take a walk, to the principal’s office. His crystal blue eyes opened wide and walked away from him. Unfortunately, the principal wasn’t in his office when I got there, but I left a note with the secretary. Two periods later, the principal came to my math class looking for me. We took a walk around the school, I explained to him what happened, and agreed with me. I explained how not only was I disappointed in the conversation with my classmates, but I was extremely disappointed with how it was handled. I told him that if the teacher couldn’t proctor the conversation accordingly, he shouldn’t have let it happen. Also by him asking me to go outside, he isolated me and indirectly sent the message of “she was the problem” See, little did Blake know that the principal and I have a really good relationship. The next day I saw Blake sitting in the principal’s office, and he looked like a little kid on time out.
I’ve been watched and followed around a store and endured some racial slurs before but this experience cut deeper. These same people that I have worked with, partied with, and gotten to know to some extent, are the same people that are completely desensitized to the fact that issues like racism that actively take lives exist. Knowing that I was surrounded in that moment in filled me with rage, that I couldn’t even express because I would quickly become every stereotypical black girl they’ve seen in media. To be titled as the “Mad Black Woman” would be more detrimental to my argument than showing the passion that burned inside me. Realizing just how black I am was not only a culture shock, but an eye-opening experience that definitely helped to sculpt my perception of the world we reside in.