Thursday, attendees were provided a look into the Black experience as a student and an academic at the Black Student Union’s Elevated Black Voices Panel.
Panelists touched on the various nuances that shape the way they have progressed either as students or professionals, while highlighting that, rather than functioning as spokespeople for their community, they are ultimately individuals who can only speak and advise upon what they have learned over the course of their life.
Secretary of the BSU Rim Tekle said she faced a variety of challenges upon arriving in the United States from Sudan and entering middle school.
Upon discovering her African heritage, students would ask why her skin was a lighter complexion, not believing that she could possibly have two African parents. This line of questioning forced her, a middle school student at the time, to repeatedly assert her existence as an African American to classmates on a repeated basis.
“Coming to middle school and knowing nothing, not the culture, not knowing the language, not knowing anything, just scared the hell out of me,” Tekle said. “I was like ‘I’m not gonna survive here’ … I don’t feel welcome.”
The culture shock, questioning and pressure of not wanting to disappoint parents who had sacrificed for the family to come to the United States created an environment where Tekle no longer wanted to go to school, despite excelling in her academics previously.
“I was the top of my class in Africa and coming here I just hit rock bottom,” Tekle said.” I was a student that (would know) the answers and would not raise my hand. I did not look at the teachers. I could not. I was so terrified I was like ‘this is not for me.’”
Conversations with friends from her prior home brought a similar degree of isolation as many failed to understand the issues she faced in her day-to-day life.
“I would talk to my childhood friends for hours and hours and they would ask me like, ‘Oh my gosh, you’re so lucky in America, the most powerful country in the world,’” Tekle said, adding that they couldn’t grasp how she could have complaints with the privileges that America afforded. “It’s so sad because they would never understand if I did complain they’d be like ‘you’re just privileged, that’s what you are. You have your own school, you have food, you have a roof over your head, you have clothes. What are you complaining of?’”
It wasn’t until high school that Tekle was able to branch out. She played soccer, joined the student council and “made sure that (her) voice was heard and the other kids like (her), who were hurt and looked at.” In addition to branching out in her extracurricular involvement, Tekle was also able to excel in her academic work, once again placing at the top of her class.
“I graduated valedictorian of my class and I was the first African American to ever graduate valedictorian and it just makes me so proud, not just because I graduated with a 4.0, but just because I’m the first one who’s my color.”
Mario Pile, Director of the Black Cultural Center, said his experience as a Black man in academia has brought mixed emotions.
“The words that come across as compliments are not the same words that my white peers receive,” Pile said. “Being told, ‘You’re so well-spoken,’ I’ve never heard any of my white counterparts ever have that compliment given to them.”
Pile said that the limited number of Black individuals in the field of academia brought about a dynamic of tokenism, where he was expected to be the spokesman for the Black community.
“People will come and ask me questions as if people have secret meetings in some cave and we deliberate on how we’re going to address the rest of the population and look to me to have these answers,” Pile said. “I can speak from Mario’s perspective, but I can’t speak from all Black men’s perspectives or all Black people’s.”
Despite these negative experiences, Pile iterated that his work in the field has not been a completely negative experience.
“I’m here because of all the different mentors I’ve had in my life and some of the most important mentors in my life were white men who saw something in me and helped me get to the place that I’m at. So it’s not all doom and gloom. It’s definitely been mixed emotions.”
Reine Byamungu, a freshman at the University of Idaho, immigrated to the United States just over five years ago. Among the first challenges, she was faced with imposter syndrome.
“I went through a lot of trying to fit in, and with that, I tried to fit into places I was not supposed to fit in,” Byamungu said.
Like Tekle, Byamungu’s background was also questioned upon entering the American school system.
“Now I’m comfortable with the accent that I have, but then (I didn’t) want this accent to keep slipping out when I’m making a conversation because people are gonna ask me the same question: where are you ‘from’ from, whatever that means,” Byamungu said.
As her younger brother progressed further into school, Byamungu said that she had to fill a role left by her single, working mother to have an uncomfortable conversation with her younger brother. One time, she had to address why a teacher had been disciplining her brother more often than his peers.
“Why do I have to have that conversation with him?” Byamungu said.
Byamungu added that, with her mother out working, she became the de-facto father figure as the oldest of the household, making these difficult conversations the burden that she bared. Her hope is that such conversations are eventually rendered unnecessary, whether a parent or sibling has to be the one leading them.
“I hope it becomes a changed world where I don’t have to speak like that, I don’t have to address that to my little brothers when they grow up, where they have to be looked (at) as if they’re criminals.”
BSU Communications Coordinator Rebekah Riehm is a transfer student from San Diego and opened her dialogue with the struggle she has had with her identity.
“I’m Black,” Riehm said. “It’s hard for me to say that because I grew up with my white mom and my dad was African American and he passed away when I was very young, so my entire life I’ve been legitimately the black sheep of my family along with my brother.”
Detached from the rest of the family, Riehm was left not feeling “black enough to enjoy Black culture” and not feeling white enough to “enjoy a casserole” she said with a smile.
This led her to float across friend groups without feeling she had any solidified identity.
“In high school, l I didn’t have many friends because I was jumping around trying to figure out where I belonged,” Riehm said.
It was not until arriving at UI and becoming involved with the Black Student Union where she was able to find a community to bond with and establish a connection with her blackness that she hadn’t been able to do before.
“Black privilege is knowing that every day you wake up into a world that was not built for you,” Riehm said, joking at first. “Having each other’s back is another.”
Assistant Professor of Political Science Aman McLeod said that his work as an academic gives him the important role of persuading and educating while others are picketing.
“Recently somebody asked me ‘you’ve got so much experience and so much education, why aren’t you an activist of some kind, why aren’t you out protesting or doing something like that,’” McLeod said. “What I said was ‘I try to change the world. I do what little bit I can do, by doing what I love doing more than anything, and that is being an educator.’”
McLeod said that it is this role that pushes him to take opportunities, like participating on the panel, that will allow him to maximize the classroom’s ability to be a space for developing compassion.
“I don’t think we’re really good at compassion, but I think you can increase your capacity for understanding other people and the common humanity and experience that you share with them,” McLeod said. “To the extent that I can facilitate that, I’m gonna do everything I can.”
Royce McCandless can be reached at [email protected] or Twitter @roycemccandless