In Class Thoughts

You ever write something, forget about it, and then find it again months later? This happens to me ALL THE TIME! This piece was written while I was sitting in one of my classes. I had become frustrated about the way the class was going and tuned out, writing this. This doesn't have a title; I was just "speaking my mind." I know that race is a very touchy, sensitive topic, and I do not mean to offend anyone nor is this about any particular individual. This is simply my thoughts.

The white man told me that I, too, could live the dream of being in a world with fellow intellectuals, 
to have thought-provoking seminars and participate in many leisure activities on the green pasture.
But little did we know as we signed away the check we were striking a deal with the devil.
Ignorance stalks by me as I walk, it lives in the dorms at every corner I turn, it even lies in the bed across from mine.
I try to ignore it but it flaunts so viciously that I can't help but notice it.
There is a lack of hunger to want to learn more
and instead is substituted with just wanting to pass.
And they judge me now because of the color of my skin and ostracize me out of their college games.
This isn't what I signed up for.

Excerpt from "Black Like Me?"

In my second semester of college, I was taking a writing class, and my professor (who I now adore!) told us to write a paper about a time where we felt like an outsider. I immediately decided to write about my experience thus far at Marist. I was nervous about handing in my paper, but he said it was well-written and very honest. Here's an excerpt from my essay, "Black Like Me?"

"College is supposed to be a time where people figure out who they are. We are surrounded by new people with different backgrounds and experiences, and by simply learning of who they are, we gain new perspectives as well. However, since I’m been at Marist now for seven months, the only thing that I have learned is that the world is filled with so many people who do not have an open-mind and are culturally ignorant. I am appalled and find myself hanging on to anyone and anything that reminds me of home. By anything I mean music I once criticized but now get excited when I hear, TV shows, movies, article and stories that reinforce my pride of being a young black woman. By anyone I mean the minority, whether he or she is Black, Hispanic, or accepting of me as a Black individual. This is not what I wanted. I never wanted to feel like I have to prove myself in order to make people understand that many stereotypes of Black people do not apply to every single Black person. I never wanted to miss home so much because I feel like I cannot relate to anyone but Black and Hispanic kids. I never wanted to only befriend minority students. I wanted change. I wanted something different than what I have been used to for nineteen years. 

The only other thing I have learned is how to be alone and understand who Jada is without anyone else. Being alone used to terrify me; I never knew what it was like to be an only child, and I have always been outgoing and had a lot of friends. But I was forced to be alone once I started college. I was the first student ever in my high school to be accepted to and attend Marist, so I knew no one else coming here. I have never spent so much time by myself, and it depressed me so much that I began to look into transferring to somewhere more diverse. Now I am somewhat appreciative of that experience because I no longer fear being alone. At the same time, however, this is all I will remember about my first year of college. And it is not fair. 

I feel as though I have been robbed of a real college experience. Not to say that everyone is supposed to have the same experience, but I was robbed of a good one because of what I look like. Who I am did not matter; I never had a problem with getting along with and meeting other people up until this point in my life. Now in my second semester, the option of transferring is gone, and I am fighting for my right to have the same opportunity to an unforgettable and positively life-changing experience as my white peers. Marist was my top choice school; I was lured in by the many opportunities it promised in its introduction video and believed that it was the right fit for me. Not only that, but I deserved to attend this school because I worked so hard in the last eight years at my very rigorous middle and high school.

 I have felt like I cannot truly be myself in addition to the fact that now I know what it truly means to be a minority. Sometimes it feels like I’m standing on the outside looking in at everyone else who is having the time of their lives while I’m hoping for the days to end quickly so I can go back home where I feel more comfortable. I do not want to try to fit in and assimilate; I simply want to be accepted and recognized for who I am, but they cannot seem to get past my skin color. It is as if it is a barrier and if they cross it, I will unleash whatever horrible rumor they have heard about my people. And that is their problem: there is no one exactly like me. I am not the spokesperson for all Black people. I do not have the same exact experiences as my Black peers although many of them are similar. Unlike what they have seen or heard, I am not ghetto. I speak well and eloquently (poor grammar is actually one of my biggest pet peeves!). I went to a really good high school and got a top notch education. People who have a similar background as me are not represented in the media, and so we get grouped in with the rest and are labeled as “All Black People.” How can I change the way they look at me, at us?"