Thriving Amidst Discrimination
When I was 17 years old I, a South African young woman, decided I wanted to do my undergraduate studies at a liberal arts college in the United States of America (USA). At the age of 18, I got on a plane and headed to a town with a name I could barely pronounce. This was an exciting opportunity with life-changing possibilities. It was going to be the next best thing to ever happen to and for me. I did not for a second think or worry about the demographics of where I was going to be spending the next four years of my life, and boy, I should have.
I knew that I was enrolled in a predominantly white institution (PWI), but I don’t think that I fully understood what it would mean for me to have to learn to exist in such a space. While studying at the PWI, I felt like I always had to be actively fighting and protesting against the many harsh and discriminatory experiences that people of color were subjected to. But my soul was quickly exhausted from existing this way, and I fell into a depression.
“Some would ‘politely’ ask if they could call me Nicky or whatever nickname they saw fit. This was heartbreaking, especially when I had already shortened my beautiful, meaningful names for people’s comfort and ease.”
As someone who grew up living in poverty, I was already feeling like an imposter for having made it out of my small township in Johannesburg. To be from a low socio-economic background, a woman, Black, African and queer in a PWI was a constant challenge.
I experienced micro-aggressions even before the school year had officially started. I attended a mandatory summer programme which was a part of my scholarship programme on campus. I was automatically enrolled in a lower-level English class because the staff assumed I didn’t know English well. But I did. I had been learning English as a home language since I was 12 years old. When I did poorly on an assessment that I knew I could have performed better on, a professor told me I should be grateful for the grade I received because “people like me” usually perform even worse than I did.
“Though my experiences weren’t as rosy and perfect as I had imagined at 18, I will forever be grateful for those four years. I became more of myself. I learned to be loud and proud about who I am and where I come from. ”
I already knew that my name was going to be a challenge for most non-southern Africans so I gave myself a nickname, NK, before I even got on a plane to America. However, even then, people seemed set on getting my name wrong. Some still called me MK, or the worst one I ever heard, TK. Some would “politely” ask if they could call me Nicky or whatever nickname they saw fit. This was heartbreaking, especially when I had already shortened my beautiful, meaningful names for people’s comfort and ease.
Despite all challenges, I made sure to utilize the opportunity to the fullest. I made amazing friends who have now become a part of my chosen family. I met professors who saw my light and my potential. They encouraged me to believe in myself. I learned to speak out and be confident about what I was contributing to the classroom while also making sure I was not being made the voice of all people of color. I was privileged enough to have more than one space within the campus where I felt safe, seen, loved, and affirmed. I made music with friends and wrote the coolest research papers about emotions. I blogged for the school’s website because I wanted prospective African students to feel seen, represented, and welcomed.
There is still so much that happens to people of color that we should be upset about and protesting against. There is still so much work to be done before PWIs can truly be safe spaces for students of color too. Even though that is the case, my challenges being at a PWI taught me that I should not feel guilty for taking care of myself first. I learned about the importance of safe spaces and community. Though my experiences weren’t as rosy and perfect as I had imagined at 18, I will forever be grateful for those four years. I became more of myself. I learned to be loud and proud about who I am and where I come from.
