By: Serena Edwards
Burnt out. Angry. Fed up. These are emotions that every Black girl at a predominantly white institution (PWI) has felt during their matriculation.
There are experiences within the PWI experience as a Black woman that you will never feel at a Historically Black College and University (HBCU). As someone who attended both institutions, Morgan State University first, then transferring to Brooklyn College (BC) PWI, I mourn the moments I had at my HBCU that this school can never give me.
Being villainized and silenced is something I won’t miss when I graduate. My school brags about diversity when it is convenient. Underneath all of the statistics, there are Black women like me who feel like we are still attending a PWI.
When I transferred to BC, I dreaded it. I felt like a failure for going to CUNY, so in my first two years, I did not speak to anyone. As someone who is a BC legacy, both of my parents graduated from here, I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps, school-wise. In all honesty, I wanted to stay at Morgan State University despite the trauma I endured there.
After being stuck at home and seeing society villainize Black people during quarantine, I yearned to be around Black people and go to an HBCU. I had a fire lit under me that could only be fueled by going to an HBCU. Being around those who look like me and have experiences similar yet so different is something I will cherish forever. I could be unapologetically Black without having to worry about someone being intimidated. My ideas were allowed to flourish. I was around people who dressed their best every day and exuded authenticity.
Most of my life, I went to predominantly white schools where I was silenced and mocked for the way I looked, talked, and dressed. When I attended Morgan State, I was like a kid in a candy shop. But the sugar rush started to crash, and the reality became clearer. I knew that Morgan wasn’t my forever home from the turmoil I experienced there. Though times were rough my first year, they were nothing compared to the underlying microaggressions and subtle racism I would soon feel attending a PWI.
It became apparent that I was a Black person at a PWI when Donald Trump won the 2024 election. I felt something so dark in my spirit, almost like I wasn’t meant to be on campus that day. I saw my white peers be able to live life freely, as I felt a pit in my stomach and a shift in society.
I walked into one of my classes and saw my teachers wearing a red dress and red lipstick the day after Trump won the election, and I genuinely felt sick to my stomach.
This experience changed my perspective on the school I attend. Though we like to pretend we are all equal, that day affirmed that my hurt as a Black woman does not hurt my white peers. As the world kept spinning, so did the audacity of others.
This semester, conservative political commentator Charlie Kirk passed away, and as a Black woman, it seemed like everyone was turning to me for an opinion when I genuinely didn’t have one.
Seeing my white counterparts in outrage and being so negative to someone who literally thought they were the best race rubbed me the wrong way. In my opinion, I didn’t know about the man when he was alive, so the one time I think about him and give the topic energy will not be when he dies. I was in class when my friends started texting me about his death, and I didn’t really know how to respond, but I did have a reaction that I wouldn’t have usually had.
I didn’t shout for joy when he died because I don’t believe that a problem was solved. Guns don’t fix the issues of our world; in cases where a person ends up murdered, the problems only end up amplified. So hearing he died didn’t feel great.
You can’t call for gun reform and then be happy when someone dies at the hands of guns.
But what made me feel even more upset is seeing people talk about “crip-walking” on his grave. I don’t care how much you hate a person; you have to have an evil spirit to be rejoicing when hearing about murder. I have seen the hate that Kirk spread, but as someone who loves Activist Fred Hampton and tries also to reflect the spirit of Jesus, I was met with hate when I posted about not meeting hate with hate.
I had white counterparts expressing to me about how I shouldn’t be “mourning” the oppressor, and I truly wanted to tell them to check themselves.
You are white, telling a Black woman how to feel, and in that same sentiment, want to be a selective activist.
I saw someone who I used to actually be inspired by consistently post about Kirk’s death when, in the same week, a Black man was lynched on a college campus, and they were silent about it. If you hate him so much, why are you giving so much energy to him? I’d like to say that people who posted about Kirk more than once during that week were going through the stages of grief.
When entering school, I definitely didn’t have a relationship or dating on my mind. But a girl has dreams, and sometimes I yearn for the connection to make my matriculation more tolerable. Being at a commuter school, it seems like the dating scene is so low, and I refuse to go after someone simply out of desperation. For someone picky with who I spend my time around, being here has made me give up on love, and I mean that. The options are the only ones staying on campus for longer than they need to. I just never found the options appealing, so I started dating something I fell in love with: journalism.
But I don’t want this whole piece to be negative; many things about this school that keep me going. My community is what keeps me grounded and alive.
If it weren’t for me meeting the friends I have, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I found the beauty in the differences and learned to fight for change in my own way.