As
I walk down the aisle of one of my first grade classes, I hear two of my
students laughing and pointing at me saying, “Black Nika, Black Nika”
repeatedly. I didn’t get the joke and
told them to stop, but they continued to think that my blackness was so
comical.
Later
on that day, I found myself thinking about the situation again, and I began to feel some dismay.
So many thoughts were rushing through my mind: After teaching these students
for 6 months, why are they still looking at me as a “black” person rather than a
human being who has shared fun lessons with them all school year? And who is
teaching these young children, no older than 6 or 7 years old, that black
people are to be laughed at and stared at? Thoughts like these ran through my
mind for a few minutes until I remembered a poem I read by Nayyirah Waheed and realized that my students were right. I am BLACK.
"Insult"
To
call me
black.
is
one of the most beautiful.
incredible.
compliments
you could ever give me.
-FBG