The service that was planned for Black History Month was about to start, and the club was very excited. We hoped this would finally get the point across of how we felt being the black girls on a majority white all-girls boarding school. Out of the 150 girls on campus, guess how many showed up?
Twenty.
One hundred fifty people attending this all-girls school and the only people who showed were three staff members, three white girls and 14 people of color (POC). The 14 POC were the people who were required to be there because they helped plan the event.
The sound that followed the service as we were exiting the chapel was a blood-curdling scream of one of my friends. She was so hurt that she spent so much time planning for hardly anyone to come. As we were going back to the dorms, everyone we walked past asked if we were OK. We said we were hurt because we figured out how valued we were on the campus. We wanted them to understand that we were hurt, very hurt.
The day after the chapel, the school administration said we would have a conversation with the entire student body, which is basically a term for “let’s have the black/POC girls get all of their anger out so this blows over in two days.” The conversation consisted of poems that my friends and I wrote to fill them in on what they missed because they weren’t there.
We stated our case and explained how disappointed we were in this campus that claims to be “progressive” but can’t even show support to Black History Month, which, by the way, is the shortest month of the year. Would it kill you to show a little support? Our anger was met with applause, compassion and apologies from the administration and the student body. We thought this entire situation would blow over.
But the not-so-obvious racial bias kept going. Put yourself in my shoes.
You walk on a campus where you get looked at every day with faces that make you feel like you don’t belong, being called out of your name because you “look like” another girl that just happened to be the same skin tone, and day-by-day you feel like you’re just a number on the campus and that your identity doesn’t matter.
You get mad as hell every day, and there is no outlet because there are only 13 black girls who understand what you are going through.
Not being chosen for certain awards because of your background, being asked directly to your face why there isn’t a white history month or a white entertainment television.
Being picked for promotional pictures because the school wants the school to look appealing for other black girls who may want to come to the school, only to experience the same thing.
You struggle every day wondering whether you want to scream in someone’s face and be portrayed as the “angry black girl” stereotype.
Imagine if every time you went back to school, you drive through a town called Lynchburg and are forced to see a Confederate flag flying in the air and you have a slight feeling that you might not make it back home because you might be harmed by someone who doesn’t want you there. Feeling like you’re being cast out because you’re not the image the school would love to portray.
There is a certain girl who is praised at the school and that everyone is pushed to be like. She, more often than not, looks the same: lovely personality, does sports/plays every season, knows how to make the school look good, is a poster girl for the brochures, and knows how to interact with potential donors. Why can’t I be this girl if I possess the same qualities she does? Did I mention that her skin tone is significantly lighter than mine and her hair is usually blonde? You have to decide to keep your composure and cry about it at night because people honestly don’t care about who you are and what you are trying to accomplish.
Think about that the next time you call me another girl’s name, touch my hair without asking, or be ignorant enough to ask why is there a white history month. Words can hurt, even if your intentions didn’t mean to. If you thought about these things, look back to the beginning, and you’ll see why we were hurt and upset. When you realize that, we can figure out a way to fix this problem.
Kyra (pictured), 15, enjoys playing basketball and is a VOX Media Café reporter this summer.
This article is very well written, but the people who made Kyra feel this way are horrible. In a school that claims to be progressive, the bigoted and discriminatory actions listed in the article should never have occured. The amount of support lacking for POC people at this school is almost tangible. No one should have to go through this. I hope that things get better for Kyra from now on.