Attending a PWI while dreaming of an HBCU

Name: Nia

Major: Education and Public Policy, African American Studies

Going to a school with a majority white population was especially hard for me to accept freshman year because I wanted to go to a historically black college (HBCU). Having visited HBCU's in the past, I am quite aware that the experience is so different than that of my school. Since I grew up in Philadelphia and went to a diverse public school, I wasn’t in shock about being around white people. I was however not prepared for the type of white people I encountered. These were people who had grown up in affluent all white towns and who have very limited contact with people of color. What set them apart from the people I grew up around is that they never had their whiteness challenged, which allowed for a strong sense of superiority, oblivion, and overall ignorance.

While I do not have an individual experience to talk about, I will talk about the overall experience of life as a woman of color on the campus of a predominantly white institution (PWI). I think the best way to describe my experience is what W.E.B. Dubois identifies as double consciousness. Not only do I have to be conscious of how I am acting and what I am doing, but in addition, I am conscious of how my actions are perceived by the white people on this campus.

I take a lot of social science classes in which we discuss race, class, gender, etc. differences and in classrooms where I am one of few or the only one, I can’t help but feel as though everyone is looking at me, and when I do participate, I have to convince myself that it's ok to be the only black girl in the classroom and speak on these issues when I have unique insight, or something to add that I learned from my previous classes. Regarding the sense of double consciousness, I also feel a sense of mistrust. I have found that you never know someone’s true intentions, and given the racial tension in America right now, that can be a dangerous situation. I cannot count the amount of times I have been in a classroom full of white women (the predominant population of my classes) and heard them talk about how unfair the schools system is to minority students and how it’s such a shame the way the system is set up. On the offset this is a great thing that they are concerned for underserved students however every conversation drips of pity, superiority, and white savior complex. The trickiest thing about having these conversations is that it is hard to confront someone about wanting to do the right thing and giving constructive criticism on that when they are completely unaware of the nuanced issue. If I had to highlight one thing that is the most stifling to my voice as a woman of color in the College of Education at a PWI, that would be it. Knowing how to address white people based off my personal feelings of disingenuity hardly seems like enough to risk the attention that comes when a black person speaks their truth in a room full of white people who take these conversations as personal attacks rather than suggestions for improvement. However, these conversations are necessary to open the conversation of the conflation of sympathy and pity of minorities from white people.

Don't Touch My Hair

Name: Kyra 

Major: Recorded Music

Before college, I never really payed much attention to how often I switch my hairstyles. Maybe I switched my hair more often at school because of the need for certain styles that last long so that I wouldn’t have to travel home often to get it done. But every time I changed my hair, I got a comment like, “New hair?” or “Oh I didn’t recognize you!” It never failed. It became bothersome to have others comment on what I saw to be normal, as if it wasn’t. And then there were also moments where I’d have to explain myself. With my first college hairstyle being individual braids, I and plenty of other people knew that this style was not my natural hair. But of course I came across people who had no idea and it wouldn’t be a story if I didn’t tell you that someone asked, “Can I touch it?” after I told them it wasn’t my hair. I was at a loss for how to handle the situation and just repeatedly said “No!” as nicely as I could and also probably coming off very irritated justifiably so. When it came time to take out my hair, I felt the need to give my roommate, who was white, a disclaimer that what she was about to see would be completely different than what she has seen. From then on, even when I began transitioning to natural, we had open dialogue about black issues that are really American issues.

My freshman year was full of racial interactions. It wasn’t just the hair, it was also having to become used to being the only black girl or black person period in a classroom. In my writing course, I had to decide if I wanted to share my voice in settings like this, inviting all eyes on me as if I didn’t already feel that way every moment of the class. I had to realize that I have the right to just listen but I also have the right to write about black issues as much as I want and take extreme pride in my identity. Coming to terms with the extent of my blackness is still a work in progress but the headway I’ve made is something I’ve enjoyed most about college. I’ve been able to just research and soak up so much knowledge regarding the African diaspora. So many resources have been provided to me, giving me an educational experience that has been unmatched. An experience that I wish I could give to those who are not able to attend college and have such access.

Outside of academia, socially I experienced a class divide. At my college, majority of students have wealthy parents and don’t have financial worries. Befriending those people at times became a challenge because they’d want to go out certain places that I couldn’t afford. And being surrounded by them, I noticed the other advantages they had over me prior to college by being able to jump into their music careers with all of the equipment and access they needed. I picked up on this divide later in the year and I began to see that I was behind my classmates in experience as well as in classes like music theory or production in which I’d never had before. As a music journalism major and music business focus, I faced some challenges that my classmates couldn’t understand. Seeing how I’ve overcome them one year later and how I’ve grown so much, I have nothing but pride in my heart. College is definitely full of challenges, especially freshman year. But once you find your voice and make yourself a priority, creating a balance of health, social life, and academics, you realize how sheltered you were at home and how you aren’t the same person you were when you left for school. Therefore, you aren’t going to feel as comfortable at home anymore and that’s okay. I had to come to terms with that, seeing it as a positive step, one towards adulthood that can be scary but is inevitable.

Finding My Niche

Name: Morgan 

Major: Urban Studies

Being a girl from West Philadelphia and moving to a college in the middle of New York City was a huge challenge in and of itself. College is an overwhelming amalgamation of new experiences that can be difficult and take a toll on your mental health, confidence, security, and identity. I went from doing the same thing everyday in high school surrounded by friends I’d known for years, to a school with thousands of people I didn’t know and the responsibility of figuring everything out. This transition was even harder because as I looked around campus, I didn’t see many women that looked like me. I didn’t feel a sense of belonging— which made me further isolate myself. My first year of college was heavy. The year dragged on and it felt like I had an anchor on me. In the social interactions and classes that I had, I was often the only black women. Anytime racism or misogynoir came up, all eyes were on me. I suddenly felt  responsible for representing all black women. I did not ask for that weight to be put on me, but there it was. I had to learn how to navigate the world of predominately white academia without the imposed chip on my shoulder. I had to learn how to express my opinions and communicate that I was autonomous.

My first year of college made me feel like a fish out of water. There were times where I felt like I should transfer to an HBCU, or to a school where I knew more people so I could belong. But the opportunities that New York provided were immeasurable to me. I knew that for my major, I needed to stay in the city. So my next task was to figure out how to make New York City my own. As soon as I realized this, I began to feel the weight I was carrying lighten. I stopped isolating myself, I tried to find my niche. I took ownership of my ideas and proudly expressed them without fear. I reconnected with an old friend who had recently transferred to my school. I reached out to professors who were specialists in my major, and bonded with them over our studied materials. I focused on myself and tried to find things that made me happy so that it made my college experience worthwhile. I made connections with people who understood my goals and ideas. I befriended amazing women of color and owned who I was. I no longer felt the pressure of being the only black woman in settings because I learned that I am me and that is all I need to be. 

To every girl of color with the brains and the guts to go to college— it’s worth it. You have the ability to make your school your own. You have the power to flourish and graduate a better and stronger person. I’m still learning, but it is possible.

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