Growing up I hated being black and I mean hate. It wasn’t just a mild discomfort; it was a hatred that consumed me. I longed to be anything but Black, anything but African. I wanted to blend into the sea of whiteness that seemed so dominant, so accepted. I detested the fact that I was Black, African, and not well…white. I was different. And in my mind that was bad.
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Although I spent a good bit of my earlier life in Palo Alto, California (my forever hometown), I grew up in Louisville, Kentucky for my most formative years: 3rd grade-12th grade. Kentucky is white as a matter of fact, but Louisville is different. Louisville has the highest rate of black populations for cities in Kentucky. The racial and ethnic composition is 7% Hispanic, 63% White, 24% Black and 3% Asian. Although Louisville boasts a significant Black population, it remains a city marked by segregation and the lingering effects of historical injustices like redlining and gerrymandering. My high school experience at Sacred Heart Academy, an all-girls Catholic institution, epitomized this racial divide. With a student body that was 80% white, I found myself isolated as the sole Black student and one of only four people of color in the IB program. I don’t begrudge my alma mater; in fact, I’m grateful for the friendships and lessons it provided. However, navigating the halls of SHA as a minority was a trial by fire I wasn’t prepared for. Racism, subtle and overt, reared its ugly head in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
At the age of 11, I became aware of the stares, the uncomfortable silences, and the burden my skin color carried. My family hailed from Ghana, West Africa, a place where culture coursed through my veins, but in Louisville, I felt isolated and unwelcome. My first brush with racism had occurred at the age of 6, but it wasn’t until later that I began to internalize the subtle jabs and microaggressions directed at me.
The weight of self-hatred became suffocating. I questioned my worth, my existence, and whether I deserved to take up space in a world that seemed determined to erase me. The pain festered, exacerbated by familial struggles and a lack of support systems. I grappled with feelings of emptiness and brokenness, carrying the trauma of my childhood into adulthood. Now, eight years later, I am confronting the legacy of that pain. I am unraveling the layers of self-loathing and reclaiming my identity. Yet, the scars remain. The fear of rejection, the distrust of authority figures, and the internalized racism persist, casting a shadow over my journey towards self-acceptance.
Art By TIMOTHY SCHENCK.
Writing has become my solace, a means of untangling the tangled mess of emotions within me. But it doesn’t erase the fact that the wounds run deep. The loss of friendships still triggers insecurities, the sight of a police officer still sends shivers down my spine, and the love I have for my heritage is tinged with the bitterness of societal prejudice.
But at the same time, I refuse to let the ignorance of others define me. I am learning to love every inch of my Blackness, unapologetically embracing the richness of my culture and heritage. I am reclaiming a piece of myself that was once lost. Now I couldn’t ever imagine being anything else but an African American black girl with proud Ghanaian parents who worked tirelessly to provide me and my brother the lives we have. I will always and forever be Ghanaian.
My story is not unique, but it is mine.
Countless individuals, particularly those from marginalized communities, grapple with similar struggles of self-acceptance and belonging. It is incumbent upon all of us to create a world where every person can embrace their identity without fear or shame. In the following quotes, I share the perspectives of fellow students and scholars.
“Being Black at a PWI is at best, somewhat uncomfortable and at worst, unbearable. It’s fighting tooth and nail just to have your issues ACKNOWLEDGED, never mind solved. College was the first time I was the only Black person in a room; the feeling of being “othered” like that was unfamiliar and unwelcome, but unfortunately I’ve only become more accustomed to it since. However, I’ve also become more outspoken and brave as a result; who’s going to stand up for me if I don’t? I will not be scared into submission — I deserve to be here just as much as anyone else.”
Tolu Dapo-Adeyemo, a sammons family honors carolina scholar, erot poet, and one of my biggest inspirations to date writes of the experience of being black at a PWI.
“Growing up, I lived in a fairly diverse area with a mostly white population and but still had the opportunity to make friends/meet peers of various different ethnic backgrounds, including those from my own. I feel like this experience has allowed me to continue branching out and meeting different people in a PWI as well. Overall, I don’t believe I have faced many challenges being a POC at a PWI but there are definitely some not so nice observations/experiences I have had in a more social context.”
Sonali Sehgal, Student, scholar, and peer at unc
“Being a poc at a pwi is a thankless and exhausting job.”
“At the University, students are pointedly aware of their place in a white-dominant social sphere. In a predominantly white university setting, many PoC feel as though they must assimilate, at least somewhat, to feel part of the community at large. To be PoC at a PWI means to give up a part of yourself, to mask and to conform.”
Jameel Baksh, a Journalist, scholar, and Recent Graduate of the University of Michigan.
My experience as a Black student at a predominantly white institution (PWI) was messy, challenging, and far from linear. I can recall the summer before entering school when discourse surrounding Black students at PWIs vs HBCUs was the most primary occupier of my social media feeds. But unlike many of my peers who were engaging in this dialogue and justifying their decision not to attend an HBCU, I sat quiet — primarily because I already knew the challenges I was preparing to face during my time in undergrad. I grew up in Clayton, North Carolina, and was always the only person of color in my advanced and honors courses. So coming to UNC, one of the nation’s top public universities, I knew to expect the microaggressions and challenges that would come with navigating these spaces as a Black man. But even with this preparation, there were countless moments I experienced that made me feel small and insignificant — many of which I do not wish to remember. But regardless of these struggles, I found solace in building my own community — not only with Black folks who looked like me, but with countless other students who were dedicated to supporting me throughout my time at UNC.
Chris Everett, former student body president of unc, scholar, and future lawyer;
another one of my forever role models
So how do we even challenge this barrier?
It’s no secret that being a student of color at a PWI can make us feel what’s known as impostor syndrome – the belief that you don’t actually deserve your success or accomplishments. When you’re often the only person of color in the classroom, it’s easy for self-doubt to creep in and make you question whether you really earned your spot. It’s fundamental, though, to push against those negative outlooks and keep in mind that you are just as worthy and capable as your peers. You put in a lot of work, graduated high school, was granted admission, and you have earned a spot in college. Never allow someone to convince you that you don’t deserve your accomplishments or that you don’t belong. You are here because of your own hard work and merit.
Take the time to surround yourself with people who deserve your time–the spaces and communities where you feel comfortable being your authentic self. Surround yourself with friends who empower you and make you feel confident in who you are. Connect with cultural groups like the NAACP, Black Student Movement, One Africa, or other affinity organizations. There’s strength and reassurance in numbers that can help you stay grounded.
Most importantly, don’t lose sight of why you’re in college. You’re not here to prove yourself to anyone else. You’ve already proven your abilities by making it this far. Now, focus on learning, exploring your passions, and setting yourself up for future success. Prioritize your personal growth and inner peace above all else. As students of color, we’re often made to feel like we don’t belong in certain elite spaces. But you have every right to take up space and be your full, authentic self. Embrace how far you’ve come, and make the most of this incredible opportunity. You’ve got this!
As we continue to confront systemic racism and work towards a more just and equitable society, let us remember the importance of uplifting and celebrating diverse voices. Let us create spaces where everyone feels seen, heard, and valued. And let us never underestimate the power of self-love to heal and transform not only individuals but entire communities.
As a woman, being black often means being looked at last. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if the beholder’s vision is skewed by screens that reflect a narrow worldview? By ideals carved in ivory towers, where my melanin is seen as a shadow, not a glow. I am here, I am present, but to them, I am last. Last choice, if a choice at all. I’ve heard the whispers, the coded language, “She’s pretty for a black girl.” In a world that prizes porcelain over ebony, where straight hair and light eyes reign supreme, I stand firm, rooted like the ancient trees, my curls a crown, my skin a tapestry of resilience, yet still, I am seen as less, as last. I’ve seen the way they look past me, eyes sliding to the next, the lighter, as if my worth is diminished by the depth of my hue, as if my blackness is a burden, not a blessing. But oh, if they could see what I see, the history in my veins, if they could see me, truly see me, they would know that I am not last. I am black, I am woman, I am powerful, and though they may look past me, I see myself, I value myself, and in that, I am never last, but always first.
If this is your first time here: welcome!
Click on the links below to read some other blogs; you won’t regret it!
No one Tells you how to survive in college
Books, Podcasts, etc. I encourage you to take the time to read/look at.
Signing Off, xoxo, Amie <3
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