#WeNeedToTalk: Being Educated Doesn't Make Us White

It Makes Us Educated.

*I wrote this essay awhile ago for a blog that was on my website but I am resharing it here with some more relevant context because of an incident that happened that made it relevant again. So while this this isn’t a wholly original piece, it comes from me and shines a spotlight on a very real problem.

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I always talk about how I grew up in Santa Barbara, CA. For those of you who don’t know where that is, it is a beautiful beach town in central California that is, and has always been, predominantly white. And even though I was surrounded by whiteness, my parents made sure my sister and I were deeply grounded in our Blackness. We were taught our history. We were taught pride. We were taught that being Black was beautiful, powerful, and sacred. I've never known anything different. I’ve never questioned who I am. Before anything else, I have always been Black.

Of course, as I’ve gotten older, my awareness of what that means has grown. My stance on social justice has deepened. I’ve learned more about systemic racism, white privilege, and how the world operates. But that deep-rooted pride? That’s always been there.

When you grow up in a community that doesn’t reflect you, it’s easy to believe that your presence equals acceptance. You do all the “right” things, speak the way they expect, get good grades, stay polite and people call you their friend. But looking back, I realize how much racism I actually endured growing up in that town. How much I brushed off, ignored, or internalized. And how much of it still lingers in me today.

We tend to think kids are harmless, but I remember the jokes. About my skin, my body, my hair. All subtle reminders that I was different. That I wasn’t like “them.” Not in the proud, empowering way my parents intended but in a way meant to make me feel less than. And then there were the “compliments” that I didn’t understand were insults until I got older. Like being told I “sounded white,” or hearing, “You’re the whitest Black girl I’ve ever met.” or “You’re so well spoken”. That was somehow supposed to be praise. Because I was articulate, educated and polite, I didn’t fit into the narrow, racist stereotypes they had about Black people.

What they were really saying was: “You’re not like what I’ve been taught to expect from Black people. And that makes me more comfortable.”

That’s not a compliment. That’s racism.

Because to say those things is to suggest that Blackness is inherently less-than. That intelligence and education belong to whiteness. That “sounding smart” or “being successful” is a deviation from Blackness rather than an expression of it. And this kind of thinking isn’t rare, it’s woven into how people are taught to see us.

Just look at what happened when Donald Trump met the President of Liberia and complimented him on how well he spoke English then had the audacity to ask where he learned it. Liberia’s official language is English. But Trump’s question revealed something deeper: the assumption that a Black man in power must have been educated elsewhere to sound intelligent. That being eloquent, well-spoken, or dignified couldn’t possibly be inherent to who he is.

That’s the kind of ignorance that comes from never truly seeing us. From only knowing us through caricatures on the news or TV. From never choosing to be in real community with Black people. And when your entire worldview is shaped by those shallow impressions, you will always miss the fullness of who we are.

But this isn’t just a white issue. Black people, we have work to do too. I’ve been called “not really Black” by my own people. Mocked for how I speak. Judged for who I married. But when we do that to each other, we’re reinforcing the same stereotypes that were designed to limit us and demean us. We’re shrinking the beauty and breadth of Black identity to fit inside a box someone else built. We can’t claim to not be a monolith then expect people in our own community to conform to what our view of Blackness should be. That’s hypocritical and divisive.

Throughout my life, I’ve had to forgive micro-aggressions, blatant racism, ignorant assumptions, and unfair judgments about how I dress, speak, or carry myself. And none of the things that make me who I am cancel out my Blackness in anyway, they expand it. They reflect the complexity of what it means to be a Black female in America. But honestly? I’m tired of forgiving. I want to see change. I want people to do the work of unlearning their biases. I want them to widen their perspective and stop measuring our worth against a standard they were never meant to uphold.

Because I’m not interested in being palatable. I’m interested in being seen and more importantly, accepted.

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