The Tale of Two Identities
2021 $5000 Scholarship Essay Competition
By Ebony Berry, 2021 Scholarship Essay Competition Honorable Mention
I was only about five years old. An age in life where the imagination runs free, and we are taught that we can be anything in life and perhaps we can. Or maybe it is just a cliché line that we were all told while leaving out the bitter truth. Because the truth is I braid my afro into cornrows and wear a straight-haired wig for interviews because I am afraid it will affect my chances. The truth is I can do twice as much work as my white counterparts and still not receive the same pay. The truth is I am anxious about receiving my master's in speech pathology because I know I will be entering into one of the top ten whitest fields in America. Because the truth is I can do all the right things and still be judged when people see my skin.
When I was five, I did not know the exact definition or concept of racism. However, I learned what it felt like. My father and I were walking across a store’s parking lot to return to his car. During our walk, an elderly Caucasian man stuck his head out his car window and yelled loudly “Move boy!”. My father did as he said. It was such a small moment, but it had a large effect on me. My dad was a superhero to me. I knew that I could come to him for anything, and he never tolerated disrespect from anyone. He had an answer to any question I could ask. Yet my father did not have an answer for me when I asked him why the man called him that. I was met with more silence when I asked why he allowed it. Seeing an adult refer to him as a child enraged me. To see my father accept it, saddened me. It was a lot of emotions for a young me to process, but at that moment I understood that life had more than just “meanies”. It had racists too.
My father may have forgotten that moment, but I did not. I was confused because my dad had always preached to me that I was expected to respect adults because I was a child. Yet, this grown man had disrespected him and he kept going. I felt betrayed and I could not even express my feelings to him because he was ignoring me. I processed my emotions the best way I knew how at the time — I ignored them and never brought up the situation again. At the time, I had no sense of emotional intelligence, but I think that moment could have been a great teaching moment. According to psychologist Daniel Goleman, there are five components of emotional intelligence: self-awareness, self-regulation, motivation, empathy, and social skills.
That moment provided me with self-awareness. There were black adults and there were white adults. White adults must have been bigger adults; that would explain why they lived in bigger homes and had better jobs. Their kids had better toys and clothes. Of course, as an adult I now understand the role white supremacy has played in this. After all, we are more likely to face discrimination in the workforce and experience redlining with housing. However, as I child I did not grasp this. I only understood that Caucasians were bigger and had more power than me. I realized at a young age where my place was in this world and I did not like it. This is where my self-regulation came into play as I began to feel a resentment growing in me. I understood there were white people that were not racist, but I did not like how they could still be friends with racists. I was angry that my white manager could never promote me after two years yet ask me to train my white counterparts and promote them after said training. I was embarrassed when I asked the owner why I could not receive a promotion and instead of an answer, I was given silence with a smirk. I wanted to scream, cry, and curse but I knew better. It was better to be silent than the “angry black woman pulling the race card”.
Because the truth is I will probably braid my hair and wear a wig to increase my chances in an interview.
Perhaps if I had learned better social skills, I would have been able to communicate my feelings better. Maybe I could have used it to understand that my father probably remained silent for my safety. Or I could have used empathetic listening to understand that racism is taught and that together we can find solutions. Instead, I use it as motivation to push myself to be a version of black excellence in a white world. Life has continued and I put those emotions behind me because they have been processed and hold little to no impact on me, especially since I really can be anything that I want to be. At least that is what I tell myself. Because the truth is I will probably braid my hair and wear a wig to increase my chances in an interview. The truth is African Americans make up less than 5% of my field, so I will have to work harder than everyone. The truth is I will likely run across another racial situation in my career and that resentment will arise once more. Because the truth is I can do all the right things and still be judged when people see my skin.
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