Brain on Drugs #3

Classes have started again. 

Being a black face in white places has been a constant in my life. 

Classes at a PWI for someone who’s black used to be quite anxiety inducing. My neurosis goes back to elementary, a place where I was also a minority. 

I can never shake the feeling that I’ve got something to prove. And though I prove time and time again that being an intellectual isn’t just a “white thing,” there is still a pressure – a sort of performance anxiety. 

Perhaps none of these white folks actually consider me to be in some way inferior to them. Perhaps this paranoia is all in my head. It’s my senior year, and throughout my time here, in many of my classes, I have cemented myself as the smart, quiet girl in the back of the room. 

Yet still, there is the thought that I’m still competing.

How’s that for double consciousness? 

Published by

Vic

This is me. Doing me.

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