The Diaspora Experience by Priscilla Mariam

The first couple pictures are of my father in Ethiopia, surrounded by close friends and family in celebration of life. The last picture of my dad is at the ceremony to receive his PhD at McGill University. Through his own diligence and hard work, he got a grant to come to one of the best universities in Canada from rural Ethiopia; yet he had to go through the difficult and disheartening process of leaving the people, land, and life he loved to learn what it meant to be black in the West, and an immigrant at the same time.

This last picture reminded me of certain passages in Privilege by Shamus Kahn. At the school my dad went to (McGill University), most of the students were wealthy and children of prestigious alumni. My dad had no one and knew no one, and got a full scholarship there as a result of his extraordinary talent and hard work. There were limits to his achievement, however, as he did not have the same level of education as his fellow peers did. Whenever he did not do as well as others, the students attributed it to the myth that the hierarchical ladder of opportunities is easy to climb if you simply put in the hard work. They suggested that my father was slacking off when in fact he would sleep a mere two hours a night, take ice baths when he got tired while studying, and often go without meals as he had no money – all while learning the language and culture he was so foreign too. My dad was extremely pressured and burdened to excel because meritocracy only worked for the predominantly elite white community, and he was consistently deprived of the ease and indifference shown by his counterparts. Everyone who came into contact with him was surprised that he was there as an African- and in general, a black person – and often stated that the reason McGill wasn’t as diverse as it could be was because people of color didn’t work hard enough to seize their potential or opportunities, or simply aren’t talented enough. They often attributed his scholarship to the school from Ethiopia as the school’s initiative to diversify, and close-mindedly stated that he simply “got lucky”. They continuously took away the focus from social conditions and assumed that navigating the ladder of social status was easy for anyone willing to work for it. The predominantly white student bodies’ ability to marginalize collective identities and blame individual immigrants and people of color for their inability to attain spots at a prestigious school is something my dad experienced first-hand and continues to define my and other minorities experiences in life today.

This plight of immigrants is one many of us know first-hand. My parents worked gruelingly hard to offer the best they could to their children in the “land of opportunity”. They left cherished family and beloved friends they have never seen again, as many have passed away or themselves have dispersed to various parts of the Middle East and Europe.  The burden of being a person of color in this country, and furthermore children of the diaspora, is weighty. The significant anecdotes and proverbs of my parents past and voyage to where they are now, however, are a constant reminder of their strength and vigilance in face of great adversity, and a source of motivation for myself.

Burning Out for Blackness by Jordan Gilliard

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My Africana House Experience by Destini Brodi

Being born in a white neighborhood, I never felt comfortable in my own skin. We were the only black family on my block, I was the only person of color in my 1-4 grade classes. Then came my  favorite day, Sunday. The day my mom would take me to Cogic churches (yes we went to three different church services sometimes). Here I developed a sense of self and understood not just the struggle of where we came from but how we overcame through the music. The gospel tunes were different from the Christian radio. After a while I started writing my own music as a way to escape my surroundings and truly find myself.

I learned despite the music genre, songs can have the power influence generations. This is something I learned  in eighth grade, when my mom placed my sister and I in a public middle school in downtown Riverside across from the church I grew up in.

The students exposed me to R&B and Hip Hop and how powerful these genres are to and how they impact  the black community. My mom then introduced me to a producer who honed my creative ability and helped me create my first album, but that was not the major take away for me. He introduced me the legends like Andre Couch, Micheal Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Helen Baylor and taught me how important their messages are to countless generations around the world.

These experiences sparked my interest in music as an outlet to bring people together despite race, gender,  or political representation. So when I moved into the Africana house my favorite times were when we listened to music together. I loved hearing the discussion, the stories, and the memories behind our favorite songs. I will never forget the dancing and the smiles we shared when our favorite middle school or high school tunes would start to play. My family here at the A-house helped me see that despite our  differences  we have the capability to relate to one another through music.  These experiences were amazing and I would not exchange them for anything.

Mother Africa by Neonna Ferebee

To be raised in a space in which heritage is embraced, is to be ingrained with a pride that no one can take. Nourished by the wisdom and strength of a Black mother, I found that the source of my Blackness had a power like no other. However, there is an inevitable disconnect that arises as a descendant of the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade opposed to the descendant of a direct bloodline that can be easily traced back to a country/region/tribe in Africa–an issue of history. As fellow friend and Africana House RA Jayqua quoted once by Marcus Garvey, “A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots.” Being deprived of something so fundamental to one’s identity is an automatic barrier against unity.

 

Although I don’t know where I come from on the African continent, the fact that I am a descendant has been enough affirmation for me to take pride in it. However, during my time here at W&M so far, I had to realize not every Black person felt this way. After being exposed to material in Africana Studies courses and exploring what ‘Blackness’ truly meant to me, I saw that on a diasporic level, there is an even greater need for unity and a general recognition of what binds us all together: Africa. So, I wrote a short poem about this simple belief ingrained me from a young age:

I call her Mother,

for she is the holder of roots.

More affectionately,

I call here Mama,

a term to magnify a distant truth–she birthed me.

 

Her diasporic womb

carried the seed

no matter where the weeds

transplanted it.

So, when I was ready to sprout,

I’d be spit out in His image,

covered in her greatness.

Is that a mix of Heaven on earth?

If I am a reflection of His grace,

Can I be a small trace of her worth?

 

My Mama is Africa,

Queen of the earth.

Wear her ‘round my neck

to show who assigned my crown at birth.

My Father is King,

Creator of all things,

and I am but a descendant of two powerful beings.

My Time in The A House by Kobina Nketsia-Tabiri

Watch Kobina’s video blog about his two years living in the A House!

Vlog Part 1

Vlog Part 2

Africana House Experience by Salma Rashid

Originally, I didn’t want to live at the Africana House. I was switching roommates and
leaving the comfort zone I had developed with my previous roommate. Not wanting to live at the House had nothing to do with me not identifying with my African roots, I just didn’t want to branch out with my living situation. My roommate and some friends convinced me to apply to live in the House and because of my fear that not applying would possibly cause the House to be cancelled, I applied.

I didn’t think I was going to get in because I felt that my responses to the questions on the
application weren’t as sincere as everyone else’s. I was applying out of obligation, and while I was interested in the idea of the House, living at the House wasn’t my wish. After submitting my application, I felt even more discouraged about my responses. After a few days, we heard back from Dr. Osiapem and I realized I was accepted into the House.
Fast forward to the start of the school year. Although I knew a decent amount of people
that lived in the House, it was very apparent to me that I didn’t know everyone. I don’t think I even knew half of the people at the time that we all moved in. Because I carried this feeling of not knowing everyone, I wasn’t able to really get comfortable.

The switch happened one evening when a group of women that lived in the House sat in
the living room and talked for hours. I can’t remember exactly what the topics were or if the conversation was serious, but I remember how I felt after and how I feel whenever we have long chats in the living room of the House. I just remember feeling like I had really developed a connection with those people.

I think living at the House has really expanded my awareness of the struggles that people
face on campus, but the House has also helped me develop some of the best friendships I’ve had. I’ve had such real conversations with people and I don’t necessarily think there are other places on campus where you can have such heartfelt conversation without feeling like people will judge you or disagree so heavily they won’t stop to listen to the reasons you feel that way. Living at the House has really made me feel more at home on a campus where I usually feel out of place.

It’s A New Horizon by Joshua Owusu

 

Hello readers! I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my blogpost. My name is Joshua Emmanuel Owusu-Koramoah, oh yeah, Kwabena! My last name comes from Ghana, my father’s homeland, where he was raised for the first 18 years of his life. The guy was a stud* and apparently had game** since, he got with my mom, a dark chocolate Floridian woman in the Air Force, who wasn’t about one night stands. They married and I came into being on April 21, 1998, on a Royal Air Force Base, in Suffolk, England. My mom always tells me I’m british. Hahaha, but it’s hard for me to claim a place where I only lived for two months. Once we (me, my dad, mom, and older brother) got to the states, my folks settled in Hampton, Virginia, a town that was home for me up until I came to college. After a few years of marriage, my parents divorced, thus I never had the opportunity to learn the local dialects or about the culture of Ghana. Nevertheless, I regret nothing. I was fortunate to have a caring mother who feared the Lord and led me in the way that I should go. Also my dad never truly left my life. He supported me and my brother, who came after me. Back in 2016, I got an acceptance letter to W&M, which was a pleasant surprise. I have enjoyed my experience. I think by putting an emphasis on faith and building a foundation by which I can stand for the years to come, Lord willing, everything will go as planned. Not my plans, but His plans. I joined the football team freshman year. My commitment to the guys/sport alone prevent me slightly from interacting as much with the campus, and this year in particular with the Africana House family, a living learning community for upperclassmen on campus. However, when I do get the chance to see the many beautiful and familiar faces, I like to mess with them. Everyone is driven, everyone wants to excel, and that is what I like most about this space to live. It turns out that it is not the food as I would have imagined, … FYI most students just eat American cuisine. I am about go back and study so, I will catch you later! Wait, I am more than willing to answer any questions that you may have … just email me at jeowusukoramoa@email.wm.edu

*Stud: someone who plays multiple sports, and is pretty good at all of them

**Game: possessing the ability to woo a woman over

What it Means by Kamyia Gunn

Check out Kamyia’s audio submission entitled “What it Means.” Click here to listen!

Only Colored People Would be Offended by That by Jayqua Williams

Maybe it was the way those words spilled from her mouth

Maybe it was the fact that she was white and I was black

Maybe it was the fact that its 2016 and people are still using the word “colored”

Or maybe… just maybe… this WASN’T the right place for me.

This place was Tyler hall on October 11th, 2016. It was some sort of diversity workshop that everyone was forced to go to and this girl, my hall mate, had the audacity to say “Only colored people would be offended by that”. Now, if it was 1968 I would expect that kind of language, but did I mention it was 2016? Was she afraid to say minorities? Was she not articulate enough to think of another word?Or was this a temporary  regression in time? Imagine being the only Black girl in a room full of 40 people, who otherwise would not have checked the girl on her selection of words. This was and Still is MY life. Imagine the looks that I received after I finished my “speech”, and then imagine how much she didn’t like me afterwards.

Although being black at a PWI is very hard and emotionally daunting, I find myself taking more pride than ever before in my heritage and everything that makes me a black woman. I won’t allow things such as the experience I had freshman year, tear me down but I also won’t allow these same problems to go unchecked.In history, we have always been known to fight for what’s right and just because it’s the 21st century, does not mean the fight is over. Frequently, I struggle with the idea of being “that person” who always stands up and resist the actions of some of my peers but it Must be done . And to this day, I still wonder if William and Mary is the right place for me, but only time will tell.

Africana House Experience by Sydney McCourt

Most of the time, when I tell people I live in the Africana House they are (understandably) confused, as I’m white and not studying anything Africana Studies-related. The truth is that I hadn’t planned on living in the A House until last spring when my friends and I started talking about housing. I lived with Fay, Bim, and Camryn who all felt strongly that they wanted to live here and since I all I really knew was that I wanted to live with them, I agreed. Even after signing the housing papers and picking out my room, I still felt a unsure since I didn’t know what to expect. Ultimately, it was the best decision I could have made.

Living in the house has provided me with a real community, something hard to find in a typical upperclassman dorm. I have gotten to know people I probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and I’ve been involved in more entertaining debates and discussion than I can count on everything from Most of all, I’ve learned a lot about cultures which I had only a passing knowledge of before.

Outside of my own personal experience living here, I believe deeply in the importance of
the Africana House as a space on campus that recognizes and provides a community for black students. Despite being being over 300 years old, the College just this year marked the 50th anniversary of black women being allowed on the campus. This should stand as a marker of William and Mary’s long history of inadequately providing inclusive spaces for its students of color. It should also serve as a reminder of how far the school still has left to go in terms of making progress on that front.

The school is faced with issues of institutional racism often seen in the insufficient funding and energy put toward programs which seek to support students of
color and educate the rest of the student body. The A House is incredibly valuable as a space which provides community and understanding to black students on campus, but also as a place which hold events which seek to educate members of campus about cultures and perspectives outside of their own, something the College should seek to do promote more of. The Africana House has provided me with a wonderful place to live as well as an expanded perspective and understanding of many of my peers, which is an experience that I think everyone on this campus could benefit from.