One of my most valued times of life was living in a house with international language teachers, back in 2015. We had our own little house of outsiders in the sleepy town of Huntingdon, PA, where we all worked at a local college. We represented but a sliver of Black America, Mexico, Russia, France and Germany. So, it was with great pleasure when one of my former housemates, Thorben, who is now a teacher in his home country (Germany), reached out to me on Instagram. He informed me that he was discussing African American history, current social justice movements such as Black Lives Matter, and dialoguing about freedom and equality. “Although I am trying to inform myself as good as possible, I will always be on the outside looking in,” he admitted, “and I think it would be a super valuable experience to get first-hand information – being that you are from the States and a part of that community.” For one, I really appreciated that he had the awareness, not only within himself, but in regards to his societal position to approach it from an understanding that a good ally takes action towards uplifting the marginalized voices that are so easily talked about, but rarely talked with. Of course, I couldn’t say no. I find myself trying to create a lane in tangent to educational institutions, which made this a perfect way for me to do more of the work that I love.
Thorben presented me with a couple of options – his students could submit questions and then he and I would find time to video record the discussion at a later date, or I could join their online class meeting… but there is a 6-hour time difference between his location and mine, which would mean to join at the beginning of the class I’d have to be up and ready by 5:50am. As much as I cherish my sleep, I agreed to the latter option because I was too excited for this cultural exchange and didn’t want to short-change myself or the students of this dialogue. Therefore, we set a date for students at Johann-Rist Gymnasium in Wedel, Germany to have a conversation with me from my office in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. “I apologize in advance if I log on and I’m still in my robe,” I joked. In preparation for the day, as I spoke with my grandmother, she warned me, “You better not.”
Thursday night, after a long day at work, I facilitated a yoga workshop for another campus, did some more work, and as I tucked in for bed around midnight, I set my alarm for 4:40, 4:42, and 4:50am. I knew it would take me about an hour to be functioning enough for the task ahead. A part of honesty and truth-telling is that I may not say the response you want to hear, but I will give you my personal honest truth. Standing firm in that decision gives me giddy confidence to fully embrace the experience. There was an odd, refreshing feeling to not use Zoom for this meeting – they used a platform called Big Blue Button.
Thorben opened the class by allowing me to give a narrative spiel about my life. I talked about my family originally being from the south – Louisiana and Oklahoma – and when we migrated to the West (referencing the Great Migration), being brought up mostly in predominantly white neighborhoods but having strong education about my ethnic identity at home and how that was a benefit and barrier through my development; attending private schools vs. public – which somehow also led into redlining and housing; interracial dating briefly made an appearance in the conversation – which brought in colorism, class, imposter syndrome, archetypes of the Black woman including the Mammy, Jezebel and “bougie” stereotypes. We were able to weave capitalism and oppression, hip-hop music, socialization, systemic and institutional power dynamics – including the creation of the Los Angeles Police Department, and a plethora of other factors that have formed my own experience and life. One of my favorite questions is always, “How deep in this are you trying to go,” as I gage what information to dispel and how.
After my long-winded introduction, we had an open discussion where the students could ask me questions. Since there was a large number of students in the room, the only turned on their camera if they had a question. However, the first comment that really caught my eye was after a student had asked me to give examples of racism; so, we talked about the spectrum of microaggressions to blatant, overt interactions. One of the examples I gave about a microaggression was the fascination and touching of hair, and someone commented, “that happens to me, too!” Of course, my mind was trying to picture the identity of the student, and even myself recognizing I had assumed there would be a relatively homogenous audience. Thankfully, the commenter had a question and I was able to see the face of a Black girl. I forget her exact question, but it had to do with recognizing differences. After I answered her question, I asked, “How old were you when…” and repeated her question back to her. She immediately had an answer regarding being the only Black child in elementary and being called monkey and other names. “We get called that over here, too,” I chuckled. “Why was I able to just ask her how old she was, and not IF that had happened to her?” I asked the class. This helped to later answer a question I received about if I felt there was a difference between the American South, East, West and North.
Other questions I received included: Am I afraid/Do I feel safe living in America; How was my experience being involved in protests and marches; Do I feel Black Americans have received equality and if not what would that look like; have I benefited from other privileges not related to my racial identity; What role does music play in culture and the fight for equality; What are my hopes, and how do I define freedom; How I relate to other people of color (specifically Latinos and Asians); and, of course, my thoughts on the Trump and Obama administrations as it pertained to social progress for the Black American community.
I was thoroughly intrigued by the curiosities that the students presented and was deeply grateful to be able to have the exchange that we did. Not surprisingly, we talked for the entire (roughly) 1.5-hours of the class period. I was intentional, and hopefully clear in delineating what responses were from my singular perspective, and which were general/shared ideas. Thinking of what my colleague did for his class led me to reflect this past weekend about representation. I am thankful and aware of the positive impact that my pre-school, Kindergarten and 3-5th grade teachers were all Black women had on my continued success. I also thought about the elective courses I took in college about African-American literature, and always feeling some inexplicable way about my white, female teachers explaining to me what driving while black is or deciphering a text about Black life – oftentimes with little or no acknowledgement or discussion of their identity and how it interacts with the content they are teaching. Similar to the reason why Thorben invited me to his class, what richness is left out when we stay in a comfort zone and remain on the outside looking in…?
It was beautiful to even make connection with the Black student because I noticed her excitement as we identified several similarities about our lives, even though it got a little off-topic; and, in the moment, I knew what was happening was an erasure of a feeling of isolation. Simultaneously, I kept in mind that potentially, for some students, this may have been the first real conversation with a Black person. I think back to when I started undergrad in 2010 and had met people whose only idea of Black people was what they saw on TV or heard in mainstream music. I was definitely some people’s first Black friend. Even now, my “wokest” white friends invite me to gatherings where I am the only, or one of two Black people/POCs present in large groups. It makes me wonder how difficult it is to shift how we’re socialized…? Anyway, there becomes this double consciousness of representing my Self, as in my unique authenticity, as well as representing for all those who do not have the opportunity, or choose not to access some of the spaces I find myself in. My hope is that my friend/colleague, and others, continues to find ways to incorporate diverse voices into their work and creating space to have intercultural dialogue. I hope that the experience was as interesting as it was for me; and, no matter if I said things that were universally agreeable or not, I hope that it sparked curiosity to seek more knowledge and reflect on the Self and the interconnectedness of our lives.