Do You Feel Privileged?

I walked into my leadership class today with few apprehensions about the subject matter. Today we were going to talk about Power & Privilege. Typically when the subject of power and privilege comes up a privilege walk is in order - this class was no exception. I've done a number of privilege walks since arriving to high school and have done a lot more since my arrival to American. Though I have very little opposition to participating in a privilege walk, today was the first time in which I felt like a minority while amongst my peers. Being the token black/Mexican girl has never been something that has bothered me before merely because that has always been the way its been, yet when I stood with my peer and stepped farther and farther away from them, I felt more and more like the minority I am perceived to be.

In this exercise we were asked to hold hands with the people beside us and to continue to try to hold hands when we took steps either forward or backward. You are to hold hands with your neighbors for as long as you can until distance ultimately separates you and hopefully you reunite later down the line. Five questions. It took only five questions to separate me and my partners. Three steps back for me, two steps forward for them. At first it seemed a little funny that we got separated so quickly, but as the activity drew on and I stood farther away from my partners, I found myself alone. Alone against a back wall with only a spattering of people close enough to hear me if I were to speak. As I looked around the room and continually backed myself into a literal wall every time I was asked to do so, I realized that though I had the privilege of living the life I did... I was alone.

I stood there silently staring at a group of my peers and every piece of my being was screaming to find a way to hide. With no one else to stand beside me, I could feel the pity radiating from them. I could feel their solemn eyes being drawn toward me and was nearly brought to tears. My life has by no means been easy or pretty, but it has always been beautiful. It has always given me hope, resilience, and faith, but today I was disheartened to see I was alone in these views. It hurt to see the pity. It hurt to feel their perceived sympathy. It hurt to finally be told what I truly was without any words. I am a minority. An outcast. And a breed all of my own. It hurt to see that though I was amongst some of the best minds and hearts I could possibly imagine, I still couldn't escape their conditioning. I couldn't escape the stare and so I cried (internally, of course). I cried because all the perceptions of power and privilege that I hoped would dissipate as I arrived to DC seemed to only strengthen until it was finally able to shake my core.

When I left that class, I couldn't help but ask - Am I privileged?

- Sam

The "Inadvertent" Cold Shoulder

I've been on this campus for almost five months and have been in classes the entire year with only a two week break after graduation. I thought that by taking the summer bridge program and getting involved on campus, I'd open this almost magical elusive door that would make me feel like a valued part of the campus. It's been nearly five months and I feel more excluded now than I did before.

At first I thought I was merely being paranoid and allowing the new city life get to my head, but as time has gone on I'm beginning to doubt whether or not I was just being paranoid. College campuses are supposed to be a new world of exploration that exposes you to all the experiences you thought you'd never thought you'd have. Though this sounds awfully appealing on the back of postcard or brochure that you receive as a prospective student, you never realize that all that glitters is not gold. 

Being a mixed black & Mexican girl in California hardly meant anything. Sure I was unique because there weren't many others like me in my small community, but I was never excluded because of it. If anything my unique traits drew more people to me, but I can't say the same about my experience here in DC. My summer experience here was beautiful. The diversity was astounding and the sense of community was heartwarming, but all of the gradually changed when fall came around.

I sit in my classrooms and can't help but notice that I am one of few people that have a natural darkness to their skin - most of the time I'm one of three. Normally I wouldn't be affected by information like this seeing how I was raised to see beyond the color of one's skin and their style of hair. Yet as time has gone on I've noticed that judgement doesn't always wait until the content of my character can reveal itself. Instead I've had to continuously wonder the color of my skin meant more to others than it ever did to me. I've had to force myself to believe that others weren't judging me because I simply looked black or Mexican, but I don't know if I believe it anymore. All the horror stories that I've unfortunately grown used to hearing, have inserted themselves into my life and have forced me to question myself.  

I don't want to believe that my peers could be so blinded by the dark honey tone of my skin. I don't want to believe that a society that prides itself on freedom would still restrict me because my skin does not blend with that of a flesh colored band-aid. I don't want to believe that in a society that praises equality I will constantly have to worry if I'm being discriminated against. I don't want to believe we've raised a generation of youth who show more indifference for inappropriate racial slurs in their media, communities, and homes than they'd willingly admit. I don't want to believe that in a school where 60% of the campus is white, that I will be pitied, excluded, or even looked down upon not because they hate me but because they've been raised to not appreciate different. I don't want to believe it, but what else is left to believe?...

- Sam