To preface this piece of writing, I have to tell you that there is still sweat on my brow from this experience, and my fingers shake as I write.
Today, I spoke with a woman about my race. I did so without thinking about it very much, as one does when they are walking and talking. I spoke words I had never said aloud, and they were words that almost stopped me in my tracks. Today I said, “everyone I know calls me black, but I’ve never called myself black.” There was a beat in my mind as the woman, my teacher, nodded, seeming to understand the statement more than I did. The conversation lulled slightly but we kept walking, speaking of it, but not with the same gusto and strength. She said “see you later,” and I fumbled out words I thought sounded like a goodbye and walked away. As I walked, I looked into the eyes of a man with the same skin color as me. We locked gazes for a second, then walked past, without a word. What had just happened? It was as if I was questioning every second, “what do you see when you look at me?” I continued walking and caught the eye of a girl with pale skin and a great deal shorter than I. She looked away quickly. Was she uncomfortable? Why?
This went on for a long while, and it started to feel like no matter whose eyes I looked into, there were just more questions and statements. I walked into the library and stood, staring at the elevator door. I stared for a long time. I felt something inside me tugging me away. I couldn’t stand the feeling. I left without ever having pressed the up arrow. I knew where the multicultural center was, on the second floor of the Student Union. I walked there quickly, my eyes on the ground, looking up only to see the staring eyes of strangers. I walked into the building and huffed it up the stairs quickly, turned right, and then I saw the room.
The multicultural center was like any other room in the building, just bigger, and more spacious. I took a few steps forward and looked inside. People inside were my skin color, some much darker, some much lighter. I looked at them and saw them busy conversing or studying. I don’t know why I walked there so fast. My feet had just carried me. The oddest sensation I had felt all day was looking into that room and feeling a push against me. Everything in my being said leave. It said you don’t belong here. You aren’t the same. I felt uncomfortable, so much so that I walked out and back in twice. The receptionist gave me a look and I looked back. I opened my mouth and almost said it, the words I had been thinking for the past five minutes… for the past twenty three years. “Do I belong here? If not, where should I go?”
I didn’t ask that. I walked out into the hall and rushed away, finding a quiet corner and sitting, and here I still sit. I thought writing this down would help me figure out where I belong. I don’t belong outside, in the public, among those who know who they are and where they fit. I don’t belong inside a center for people who look like me. So where am I supposed to go when I want to feel like I’m not alone? Please someone, tell me. Where do I belong?
