The Gift of Friendship
As a young adult from Eswatini (formerly Swaziland), I had no idea what it would mean to study at a predominantly white institution (PWI). I didn’t think much about being an international student either because I had attended an international high school before college. Yet, there I was at 20 years old, navigating a world so unfamiliar.
I went from a majority Black high school to being one of the two Black students in almost all my classes. Consequently, I questioned and doubted myself a lot. My anxiety was crippling. My foreignness rang loud. It was in the way my classmates said, “Oh sorry, could you repeat that?” after every point I tried to make. My accent was louder than I could ever be and it drove me deeper into silence and isolation. Navigating white America for the first time required the strength of my ancestors and the warm hugs of my friends.
“No matter how tumultuous things got and how triggering some moments were, each encounter with my friends was positive and affirmed my existence.”
Luckily for me, making friends was not that hard. I met my first friend as soon as I arrived on campus, all tired and beat down from over 30 hours of traveling. She came up to me with the biggest smile and asked if I was Siye. As an orientation leader, she had seen my name on the incoming freshman list and had been looking forward to my arrival. I didn’t know then how beautiful our friendship would grow to be. She invited me to one of the student apartments later that evening. It was in those apartments that I was introduced to other African students on campus who also grew to be some of my closest friends.
My college friends made me feel safe, seen, and valued. They made breathing a little easier and allowed me to let my guard down for a little while. When I was around them I didn't have to defend my place, my home, or my people. We all understood the harshness of the world. We had seen it, felt it, and cried about it. Because of this mere fact, we unknowingly created our own little cushion to help us get by. No matter how tumultuous things got and how triggering some moments were, each encounter with my friends was positive and affirmed my existence. Whether it was a short conversation in the library while studying for finals or a quick meal in the dining hall before my next lecture, bumping into one of my friends left me feeling lighter. We shared survival tips, food and in times of uncertainty, we shared housing.
“We worked many shifts to fill the time, to forget about the fact that we had not seen our loved ones all year. That we may not even get to see them again for another one.”
My friends became my home away from home. While other students returned to their homes for summer or winter breaks and others traveled on beautiful vacations, some of us stayed behind. For many of us, it was because we could not afford to fly back home. Staying behind over semester breaks presented us with the opportunity to work and make some money to survive the next month or three. We worked many shifts to fill the time, to forget about the fact that we had not seen our loved ones all year. That we may not even get to see them again for another one. We were comforted by the moments we spent together after a long day’s work. The moments where we got to sit and watch the sunset, playing Jenga over glasses of Barefoot wine and white cheddar popcorn. The endless laughter and plans to meet again the following day, same time.
All the years of watching American films and listening to American music could not have prepared me for the culture shock and loneliness I experienced during my time there. But despite some of the challenges I went through while trying to navigate predominantly white spaces, I found such incredible friends. It warms my heart to know that through it all we held each other in love, in care, in kindness.
