That initial shock didn't take too much of a toll on me. My teachers and classmates were very welcoming. I'm not stating that to imply that my 6 year old self expected White people to mean and terrible, I'm just painting a picture. My school, Bryn Mawr - go Mawrtians - had a very friendly and comfortable environment, especially in lower school. Yes we called it lower school and not elementary school. Sometimes we were a little, uh... pretentious? I'm not sure if that's the word I want to use there, but I think you get my drift. I also used that word in my last post, for all of you who wait for my posts with bated breath, I'm really, really, really sorry. Anyway, I was also very tall in my younger years, which is hard to imagine now since I'm a whopping 5 feet and 3 inches. Just know that I have been this teetering height from the age of 10 in 5th grade. But yes, I was super tall in 1st grade and I was not skinny. Don't get me wrong I wasn't battling childhood obesity, but those other girls... I'm sorry it just looked like they just did not eat food.
My 1st grade friendships were all over the place. In the beginning it seemed like I was just bouncing around from friend group to friend group (some people had already formed relationships because they started going to Bryn Mawr in pre-school, or kindergarten, or even day care.. as in they started going to Bryn Mawr as an infant). Initially I hung out with the only other Black girl in my homeroom, because she was the only other Black girl in my homeroom. But she was pretty mean and I didn't really like her, sadly at that point she was my only option. At some point or another I was accepted into the fold and I was no longer forced to hang out with the bully.
My 1st grade friendships were all over the place. In the beginning it seemed like I was just bouncing around from friend group to friend group (some people had already formed relationships because they started going to Bryn Mawr in pre-school, or kindergarten, or even day care.. as in they started going to Bryn Mawr as an infant). Initially I hung out with the only other Black girl in my homeroom, because she was the only other Black girl in my homeroom. But she was pretty mean and I didn't really like her, sadly at that point she was my only option. At some point or another I was accepted into the fold and I was no longer forced to hang out with the bully.
By 2nd grade I was in my stride. I had my first play date at what was probably one of the biggest houses I had ever seen at that time. People always wanted to be my partner in gym class, people always wanted to sit next me at lunch, I got people in trouble all the time for talking because I was super chatty (I also find it funny that I'm listing that as a positive thing... I don't know, feel free to analyze me), and the teachers seemed to really enjoy me. Side note: I think this is the point in life where I started to think I was really cool. So young right? Most people talk about how they hated middle school because they were so weird and dorky and developing mentally, physically. Or they hated high school because people were so bitchy and crazy, but not me. I loved it all because for some reason I thought I was really cool at all stages of life. This is not true, obviously, but apparently my perceptions of myself seemed to be crafted out of grandiose delusions. This is a topic I'd actually like to really delve into at some point, so we'll save this for later.
As each grade passed, I had a different best friend. Sometimes it would last for a week or two, sometimes a month, some of those girls are still some of my best friends today. But since I shook off my Black bully friend in first grade, I never really felt compelled to be someone's friend because we were both Black nor have I ever felt like I was in a friend group simply to fill the diversity quota. Now that being said, I guess it's time we break down what the term "token Black friend" means.
Have I ever felt isolated being the only Black person in the room when I'm among a group of my friends? The answer is yes. I can't count the amount of times a joke has been made that seems like it "slipped out" and probably wouldn't have been said in my presence if the person had been paying attention. The most recent time I can recall was someone making a joke about saying the word "knickers" because it sounded close to another word. Apparently the joke was funny. People laughed lightly. I remember wanting the moment to be over so badly. I remember being angry and not knowing if I had the right to be angry. In that moment I couldn't understand why someone would make a joke about the word "nigger" in my presence. Not only in my presence but in an environment and conversation in which I was a full participant. Not only that, it wasn't just someone saying it, it was my friend. Should I have said something? Should I have voiced my offense right then and there? Was I a coward for not doing so? I always pride myself on being a bold and sassy young lady who isn't one for taking crap from people. But in situations like that I freeze. Anyone who is close friends with me will tell you I'm not one for emotions, so maybe that's what stops me. Maybe the sadness and betrayal I feel when one my best friends can look me in the eye and say the word "nigger" or excuse me "nigga" because she's singing it in a rap song so that makes it okay, maybe that's just too much for me to handle.
Have I ever felt isolated being the only Black person in the room when I'm among a group of my friends? The answer is yes. I can't count the amount of times a joke has been made that seems like it "slipped out" and probably wouldn't have been said in my presence if the person had been paying attention. The most recent time I can recall was someone making a joke about saying the word "knickers" because it sounded close to another word. Apparently the joke was funny. People laughed lightly. I remember wanting the moment to be over so badly. I remember being angry and not knowing if I had the right to be angry. In that moment I couldn't understand why someone would make a joke about the word "nigger" in my presence. Not only in my presence but in an environment and conversation in which I was a full participant. Not only that, it wasn't just someone saying it, it was my friend. Should I have said something? Should I have voiced my offense right then and there? Was I a coward for not doing so? I always pride myself on being a bold and sassy young lady who isn't one for taking crap from people. But in situations like that I freeze. Anyone who is close friends with me will tell you I'm not one for emotions, so maybe that's what stops me. Maybe the sadness and betrayal I feel when one my best friends can look me in the eye and say the word "nigger" or excuse me "nigga" because she's singing it in a rap song so that makes it okay, maybe that's just too much for me to handle.
So in those situations, I have experienced the downside of being the token black friend. Throughout middle school and high school I was asked a series of dumb questions including, "is it fun being Black?" And, "will you talk in Ebonics to me?" That last question is interesting because a lot of people in my family (mostly cousins who think they're funny) have accused me of "talking white" meaning I use correct grammar. The thing is, I have a switch. When I'm not in a professional setting, or around my school friends, I can easily conjugate a verb incorrectly if I see fit. I also think it's sad to associate something as basic as correct grammar with being White...grammar is not a racial barrier.
I don't think the whole any certain way of talking makes you any less Black or less White or whatever, but maybe that's because of the situation I find myself in. I always feel like I'm an authority on White culture because most of my friends are White or some variation of ethnic that is considered White, etcetera, etcetera. I think some of my friends think they know about Black people because they are friends with me, which I find pretty comical and intriguing. Sometimes, I feel like the ambassador of the Black people for my friends. I think it's a good thing, somebody's gotta teach them something. If I have to explain why you don't throw water on a Black girl, especially when she just got her hair done, then I will. I might have saved that person's future life. At the same time, I can't be fully responsible for making sure that a handful of non Black folks can begin to understand a group of people that are so diverse. Even me, growing up with one Nigerian parent, and one Black American, my perception of Black American culture is different from another person with two Jamaican parents or two Black American.
Not too many of my friends have explicitly asked me about what it's like being the token Black friend. Not many have asked me my stance on the n-word, even the ones who have said it in front of me shamelessly, perhaps I should say especially the ones who have said it in front of me shamelessly. Maybe it's something that only I as the token can bring up without it becoming uncomfortable. I'm not really sure. One friend did ask recently how I felt during my time at Bryn Mawr being part of the small Black minority and we talked about some of the things I wrote in this post. But really what I took away was the fact that she even asked. It showed compassion and a desire to learn something very important about one of her best friends. But this girl, she has a big heart and always goes above and beyond for everyone she loves, so I expect nothing less from her.
Anyway, that's my quick take on my token Black status. Not sure I like that term, I'll work on coming up with something a little less demeaning and a little more accurate. Bye for now.
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