Being black is lit. I absolutely hate the word “lit” when it’s not being used ironically, but here I am, starting an article with a contradiction. Some of you might use that contradiction to discount the things that I am going to say later in this piece. I implore you to open your mind and continue reading. I hope you will sit on your ego, peruse the words of this article, and think about what it means to you. I pray that you will connect with this piece, and even if you don’t, that you will learn from it.
I am the daughter of two parents that graduated from college. All of my grandparents were well-spoken, educated to some degree, and financially successful. My parents are married, my sisters and I always had the things we needed, went on vacation, and were given things that we did not necessarily need simply because my parents could do these things for us, so they did. They still do.
I am the kind of black person that white people are comfortable being around. I am the one that could have been the “token” in high school if I had allowed myself to be taken down that route. I am not the stereotype of “blackness” that many white people have allowed to live in their minds. I speak well. I read a lot. I write well. I listen to Lady Gaga and Joy Williams and I usually wear my hair straight. All of these things sound irrelevant and unrelated, right? Exactly.
I am still black. Being black is a part of my identity, a part of my racial makeup, a part of my culture, and it is who I am at the core of my being. I love being black. I’ve had many white people tell me, “You’re not really black, Cydney,” to which I have always countered, “Actually, yes, I am.” Blackness is not something that has one meaning. Even black people struggle with defining what that word is defined as, but when we all come together, we just know. Blackness is everything about our existence. Blackness is the way we are constantly moving forward. Blackness is the way we band together to protect one another from adversity in spaces where we do not feel protected. Blackness is the way we can go from vibing to “Mary Jane” by Rick James, to quoting lines from a Tyler Perry film, to breaking into song every time someone says, “Never would have made it!” Even still, these fun times where we bond do not embody blackness. You should not want to erase someone’s identity to make yourself comfortable.
Lately, on Towson’s campus, blackness has been targeted. What is the first thing people say when they see violence born out of people frustrated over police brutality? “Why don’t you peacefully protest? Talk to the lawmakers. Do real work.” Not only have Towson students and staff been doing this ever since the dreadful white student union incident my freshmen year, not once have black students at Towson responded with violence or even so much as specifically approached or attacked white students that have threatened our existence here. Yet we are the ones that are constantly being offered advice from people that won’t help or listen either way, and we are being attacked for doing anything at all.
I don’t feel protected at Towson. I don’t feel wanted here. Many of you will say, “Fine. Go to a different school. Stop whining.” To that I say: God bless you. You never have to speak to me, and you certainly do not have to read what I have to say. But I will not be silenced because you’re uncomfortable, just as my black brothers and sisters at Towson will not be silenced. Instead of demanding black people to tell you all of the times they’ve felt uncomfortable at Towson, why don’t you ask yourself how often you’ve felt targeted on this campus specifically just for being white? How many times has someone told you that you’re not really white because you don’t live in a trailer park? How many times has someone said something like, “Wow, you speak really well?” or, “Wow, your hair is so soft,” or, “Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you with that hair.” These are microaggressions that black people are experiencing daily on top of not seeing themselves reflected in faculty and staff, not seeing a lot of black students on campus, and not seeing that we are protected in these spaces.
I haven’t done everything that I could have as a black person to stand in solidarity with the other black people on this campus in the past. I haven’t skipped my classes to go to rallies and I’ve been to very few BSU events. I’d gotten comfortable with being the kind of person that everyone is comfortable with, which is inexcusable, and I hope that I will be forgiven for that. I am eager and excited to change these things about myself. These past few days where racial tensions have been high, I have more closely aligned myself with my true beliefs. Now, when you talk to me, this is all I want to talk about. All I can talk about. This is so important to me, and I am begging Towson to do the right thing here. I have all of my classes in the Liberal Arts building. The café that was the source of all of this controversy? I eat there almost every day. The floor where the café is on? I have most of my classes. I have never felt so unsafe in my life. I see students looking at me with peeled eyes, like they are expecting me to pop off just because. When I went to check in on the café workers earlier this week, a white guy scoffed behind me in line.
I don’t expect white students or staff to understand the big issue here. I do, however, hope that you will listen, learn, and fight against your urge to interrupt and insert your narrative. You cannot tell a black person what their experiences are in the same way that I have not spoken on behalf of Asians, Latinos, Native Americans, etc. in this article – because these are also oppressed groups that are underrepresented and unprotected in Towson and in the world in general – but I do not know their narrative and will therefore always leave room for them to share it. I haven’t even gotten into the deeper issues here, where the platform for other black people begins to disappear when socioeconomic factors come into play. Where people will choose not to listen to a black person because they’re “too ghetto” or don’t speak well enough.
I will continue to work on myself to be a better person in society. I will also continue to work on being fearless and to use my newfound confidence to help other black people to get over their fear to speak up. Being silent has not ever helped when it comes to standing up against hate and racism. I am hopeful that Towson’s administrators will call racism what it is and make sure that all students and staff feel wanted and protected here. I am sure that I am not alone in the way that I feel. The mural in freedom square was senselessly defaced this morning and black students and staff are in fear for their safety. We deserve to be protected in a place we pay money to attend.
This article, I hope, will make people think. Some people will be offended and that’s completely fine. Some people will think this is stupid, and that’s all right. As Black Lives Matter activist DeRay McKesson always says:
I continue to talk about race because race continues to impact my life & the lives of those who look like me.
I’m not the enemy, racism is.
— deray mckesson (@deray) April 17, 2016
Being black is lit. I cannot wait for the day that we are truly valued in society and feel safe and represented in public spaces. Until then, I’d at least like to see that we are able to craft and control our narrative while we work to strengthen, educate, and rebuild our communities. Stop rushing to quote MLK and listen. Let’s work together to create a better world for our children. In the meantime, check out #TheTowsonIKnow tag on Twitter and educate yourself on what’s been going on. Don’t look for people to link you or explain themselves, read, listen, and learn.
Be well,
Cydney Humphrey