“I’ve been in movement work since I was 16 years old. Black Lives Matter becomes an important part of the story, but it’s not the only part of the story.”
–Patrisse Khan-Cullors

 

First-generation college students are generally described as lacking the knowledge, skills and resources necessary to be successful in college.  Hence, all of the academic support programs and intervention programs currently in place to “help” this population.  This deficit framework overlooks and minimizes all that these students do know or learn along the way in order to be admitted to college.  This information often is passed along to family members, friends and neighbors.

Having “made it” to college, first-gen students often become the designated guidance counselor for siblings and the go-to people for random information.  As the designated Smart One in my family, I was expected to know the meaning of unfamiliar words (“What’s this mean?”), to interpret mail that came from the local and federal government, and to run interference between my cousins and their teachers or college prospects.

Ironically, when I arrived at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, I found myself once again in the role of instructor.  Thanks to a high school course on The Black Experience in the United States (taught by a dope white woman, Nancy Lyall), I quickly learned that I knew more about Black history than my peers.  I also wore my hair in braids, had a Malcolm X poster,  and I knew all of the words to “Self Destruction.”  These things qualified me, apparently, to educate  both  my white *and* Black peers.

I struggled to make sense of being in the position of social justice educator when I also clearly did not know things like the value of dropping a class.  Or how to submit a financial aid appeal.

I peaced out and transferred to another school.

“Stay,” my friends begged. “We have so much to learn from you.”

“I came to college to learn,” I said and headed back to D.C. and to Howard University, a Black college in a Black city, naively thinking my teaching days would be over and that my problems would be solved there.  [They weren’t.]

Right now, I am thinking about the Black first-gen students who for years have been educating their family about college admissions and financial aid and who may also feel compelled to inform their college peers, staff and professors about The Black Experience and the history of racism in the United States.

Not to mention while living under quarantine these students also may  be educating family members about the importance of physical distancing and wearing a mask without coming across like a know it all.

It’s a lot.  And it is tiring.  And while there is literature out there about the burden of representation that black students may feel at predominantly white universities, there is yet to be significant dialogue about the cumulative impact of Black students who have been educating family before they even enter college while also informing their campuses about racial injustice.  This perspective forces us to confront the often fuzzy lines of student/educator and to rethink what social and cultural capital Black first-gen students possess.

Today, I am also thinking of Patrisse Cullors, Alicia Garza and Opal Tometi, all Black first-generation college students, who began their social activism either in high school or college before they collectively founded Black Lives Matter.  How exhausted they must be by now.  What kinds of support did they need at the time?  And what interventions those of who are paid to be educators can offer.