The Only One: How Being a Black Girl in Predominantly White Spaces Helped Me Find Acceptance and Inner Peace

From my first day of fifth grade, I can remember looking around my classroom and not seeing a single person who looked like me. None of my classmates or teachers were Black or of color and that was my environment through eighth grade. Then, once I moved on to high school, I was one of five Black girls in my entire grade, and again, not one Black teacher or teacher of color. Unable to have the opportunity to affirm with or see myself reflected in others, it was difficult to feel included. Many days were filled with thoughts about how I’d get my peers to see me for who I was instead of the Black girl they saw me as or wanted me to be. I was Black, that was obvious, but to my White classmates, I was the exception; Black on the outside and white on the inside...the Oreo cookie. I hated that name, but despite it, I’ve learned how to find my own acceptance and inner peace.

Looking back, I didn’t realize the acceptance I was looking for as a child and adolescent were rooted in being the “only one” early on in life. I recognized that I was the only Black girl in most spaces, but I felt my desire to belong and be accepted as just part of the process that came with time and maturity, not because I was the only Black girl. I hadn’t understood in those moments that belonging was more than just being invited to events, but belonging also meant affirmation and connection. Since I didn’t have those spaces of affirmation and connection, I entered friendships that gravitated toward me and based on my environment...all White and me. Still, as positive as those relationships were, something was missing. I continued to encounter moments where I didn’t feel understood or comfortable and when I’d express those sentiments, my friends didn’t fully understand. Because we got along so well, and to them, I was so similar to who they were based on certain stereotypes I didn’t seemingly define in terms of being Black, it wasn’t something they could really conceptualize. 

I went on to experience this feeling of “something missing” as I moved into my adult life.  Embarking on new friendships, I’d continue to hear the Oreo cookie comparison from my White friends. Seriously, what does it mean to “Be White”?  What marker or set of actions was used to determine that? I had no idea and it was upsetting to not have my identity as a Black woman fully accepted or appreciated. Black people are not a monolithic group and I didn’t understand why others didn’t see that.  From those experiences, it was the desire for inner peace and acceptance that gave me the subconscious push to be so involved in the work of diversity, equity, and inclusion I do today. Through that work, I began to find my spaces, affinity spaces, where people looked and affirmed like me. It was a different kind of connection, one where I felt I could be safe and vulnerable, even if it were with people I had new relationships with. This is what was missing, genuine understanding simply because of the color of my skin. Yes, there were differences, but our experiences were so similar in many ways and that was comforting. I found myself growing in my identity, with more resolve, acceptance, and best of all, inner peace.

Then, on May 25, 2020, I along with the rest of the world witnessed the murder of George Floyd on television. While I was already too familiar with the stories of Black people and police brutality, seeing it along with the rest of the world hit me differently. I thought to myself, “Now people, my friends included, will really understand what it means to navigate everyday life as a Black person”. Even in public, on camera, and in broad daylight, we are still seen as a threat for just existing and our lives really aren’t our own. However, the silence I wasn’t prepared to hear from some friendships was deafening. I couldn’t understand why friends that I had spent time with supporting their efforts and identities, weren’t reaching out to support me at a time like this. I’d be lying if I said not understanding was my only feeling, I was also furious. How many times had I attended birthday parties in all White spaces (like the birthday at a White hair salon where no one knew how to do my hair and my classmates laughed at me), or the countless St. Patrick’s Day festivities; I even went to a Yule with friends, as I watched an entire auditorium filled with White people stare and glare at me for being in their space. Yet today, and the days and weeks that followed, from some, not a word. I found myself starting to regress back toward feelings that lacked acceptance and inner peace.

It took me an entire year to sort through the feelings I had around the disappointment I experienced with some of my friendships. It was hard to wrap my head around the differences that I had now learned, always existed, despite being older and more mature. While I found myself perseverating over how to “make them understand” through social media posts, conversations, or flat out calling people out instead of in, which never works, I was further away from the calmer space I had been in the prior year. As a result, I had a decision to make, and that’s exactly what I did. I focused on my work and commitments as a diversity practitioner, filling myself with affirmation both internally and externally. I tapped into my Black friendships and relationships because that was what I really needed to move forward and find that positive drive again. However, what was perhaps the best move toward restoring my feelings of acceptance and inner peace, was recognizing that you really have to meet people where they are and that included some of my most personal relationships with my White friends. I started to lean into those who were truly committed to understanding my journey and experience. In exchange, I had to be open to understanding where they were coming from as well, and that was hard. I wasn’t trying to teach what it’s like to be Black, but I was willing and open to share resources and ways to stand in solidarity that helped my friends to try and understand.  

While it hasn’t always been the easiest of times being the only Black girl navigating predominately White spaces, it has given me tremendous perspective and strength. Situations may have been difficult to navigate many times, but through them, I was able to tap into who I am and want to be as a person. From that, I have a clearer understanding of how to maintain acceptance and inner peace, and that’s priceless!