Names: Gabriella
Major: Nursing
I never felt deprived of any resource or opportunity due to my race in a classroom; nor did I ever feel unsafe, or at risk of any harm. If I had to choose one word to describe my experience in school as a Dominican, with a complexion that immediately labeled me as black, it would be: uncomfortable. I grew up under the assumption that Black meant African-American. I knew I was Dominican so I didn’t consider my race to be Black until it became clear. Until I noticed awkward stares from classmates throughout the unit of slavery, in a history class where I was one of just two people radiating melanin. Until the day that I was in a library study room and a group of white students next door erupted into a volume above the appropriate noise level, but the librarian barged into the room of me and my colored companions appalled at “our” outburst. I came to the realization that race was nothing more than a label based on physical characteristics.
I’ve heard so many people refer to human beings as the human race, but somewhere, somehow, it had to be further divided. So now there are ethnicities identifying what country your family is from, and your race identifying what you look like. Your race will place you in a category that many people will use to predict your behavior and eliminate your individuality. Me and the only other black girl in this one class were placed in a group for a class activity and after inputting my contribution to the assignment, a white student told me “wow, I’m so glad you are at our level.” I saw a look of relief on her face as if when I first introduced myself, she assumed I was beneath her, intellectually at least. She most likely would not have understood what was wrong with her statement if I would have chosen to tell her because she most likely will never be treated as inferior.
A microaggression is equivalent to a paper cut. If you’ve never experienced the laceration inflicted by a single piece of paper (usually white people) first-hand, you won’t understand how painful it can be. You can witness the entire scene and still fail to understand why this cut, that was so minor, and quick, can cause such deep pain. You will also fail to understand that it is not only a single instance of pain. What I mean by this is that even while you are performing simple daily tasks in following moments, this cut is susceptible to further irritation. This paper cut will feel brand new if it were to encounter hot water, hand sanitizer, excessive pressure, a lot.
So being a woman of color in a predominantly white classroom is uncomfortable. There are constant encounters with actions/statements implying inferiority and your only options are to bite your tongue and think about what you could’ve said, or express your pain and look like the angry black woman they assumed you were.
I never felt deprived of any resource or opportunity due to my race in a classroom; nor did I ever feel unsafe, or at risk of any harm. If I had to choose one word to describe my experience in school as a Dominican, with a complexion that immediately labeled me as black, it would be: uncomfortable. I grew up under the assumption that Black meant African-American. I knew I was Dominican so I didn’t consider my race to be Black until it became clear. Until I noticed awkward stares from classmates throughout the unit of slavery, in a history class where I was one of just two people radiating melanin. Until the day that I was in a library study room and a group of white students next door erupted into a volume above the appropriate noise level, but the librarian barged into the room of me and my colored companions appalled at “our” outburst. I came to the realization that race was nothing more than a label based on physical characteristics.
I’ve heard so many people refer to human beings as the human race, but somewhere, somehow, it had to be further divided. So now there are ethnicities identifying what country your family is from, and your race identifying what you look like. Your race will place you in a category that many people will use to predict your behavior and eliminate your individuality. Me and the only other black girl in this one class were placed in a group for a class activity and after inputting my contribution to the assignment, a white student told me “wow, I’m so glad you are at our level.” I saw a look of relief on her face as if when I first introduced myself, she assumed I was beneath her, intellectually at least. She most likely would not have understood what was wrong with her statement if I would have chosen to tell her because she most likely will never be treated as inferior.
A microaggression is equivalent to a paper cut. If you’ve never experienced the laceration inflicted by a single piece of paper (usually white people) first-hand, you won’t understand how painful it can be. You can witness the entire scene and still fail to understand why this cut, that was so minor, and quick, can cause such deep pain. You will also fail to understand that it is not only a single instance of pain. What I mean by this is that even while you are performing simple daily tasks in following moments, this cut is susceptible to further irritation. This paper cut will feel brand new if it were to encounter hot water, hand sanitizer, excessive pressure, a lot.
So being a woman of color in a predominantly white classroom is uncomfortable. There are constant encounters with actions/statements implying inferiority and your only options are to bite your tongue and think about what you could’ve said, or express your pain and look like the angry black woman they assumed you were.
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