First Days of School
I had an interesting (confusing, frustrating, defensive) conversation with M in which she stated that she was white and always wanted to be white. “Brown is ok,” she said. “Mama’s brown, chocolate is brown, but I’m white. I like white.” I tried to carefully explain that she really is black even though she’s fair complected while D jokingly said, “I guess we should show her her birth certificate.”
I understand. There is an amazing amount of whiteness in Lubbock. So much that when I see another person of color, we exchange looks of genuine pleasure and surprise. But the amount of whiteness is unsettling. When I visited the ILs the previous month in NC, I was very aware and self-conscious of my other-ness, the smudge in this otherwise pristine environment. I could feel that I was building a protective wall around myself made of a palatable, amenable version of me. Not the real me, but an ambassador whose function was to protect and deflect the real me. But the longer the ambassador is present so grows my anger. Where is my safe space? Why should I have to hide parts of me away for your comfort?
That anger came in a rush when I had to pick M up from school last week. I waited in the parents’ area as instructed while the children were brought out. M saw me and told her teacher as she was instructed to do, but her teacher told her to wait until all of the students were seated. But then I watched as many (white) parents were allowed to disregard the waiting area picking up their children, (white) children were allowed to leave without checking out with the teacher, yet I and other parents (of color) were sternly told to stay in the waiting area. I watched as M was grabbed by another teacher and told to go back to her class when her teacher did release her. Completely livid at this point, I insisted that I was M’s mother only to receive a strong, quick and very direct ‘Talk to the hand’ gesture that took me to DEFCON 1. When M was finally released by her jailors, there was no apology to me or to her but a cheery smile and a, “Have a good weekend.” My body was vibrating with anger so much so that my tongue was tied. The only thing I could manage to say was thank you because anything else would have been either inarticulate or not appropriate for a young audience.
But my first week at TTU was the complete opposite. I have never been received so warmly as by the faculty, staff and students. The warmth of that welcome makes my experiences with the rest of Lubbock (or at least with M’s school) all the more chilly and makes me wonder what have I unintentionally signed my daughter up for? What did I sign up for?
Make no mistake, as lovely as TTU is, it is not without its faults. There are groups and gatherings to address tolerance and civility but it is focused largely toward the LGBTQ community. There’s little from what I’ve seen that address race and ethnicity specifically. There are small pockets here and there, individuals, but no commitment on the part of this university as I have seen in previous institutions to address the multiple aspects of diversity and inclusivity aggressively. Even during my new hire orientation, I felt like I was playing Where’s Waldo? but with people of color.
Hopefully, it will not be all doom and gloom. Yesterday, I came across one of the administrators at M’s school. She, another woman of color, asked how M and I were doing. We are well but having some difficult moments, I reply. She nodded in sympathy; assured me that things will get better and asked that M and I give Lubbock a chance. But will Lubbock give me a fair chance as well?
