A few weeks ago, I was interviewing a student and asked if the changes they’d seen at the school (with regards to race) were surface level or actually meaningful. The person scoffed and said, “What changes?” If I were asked that question, I think I would’ve said the same thing. 

Over my five years at Parker, I don’t think I’ve gone more than a week without hearing about some sort of racialized aggression, be it micro or macro. This reality has chipped away at my sense of being. How often people got away with these actions made me feel that I’m not wanted here. 

I came in sixth grade as part of a group that was markedly more diverse than the students I saw when school started. But at the beginning of my Parker career, race was less prevalent in my mind. I didn’t think about myself as different because of the color of my skin. Even though how I was being treated and how others saw me was impacted by the color of my skin from a young age, I didn’t recognize how important it was in others’ perception of me.

All of that changed in seventh grade when a classmate directed a racial epithet towards me and a friend.

I brushed it off. We were in seventh grade and immature. Even today I don’t hold this student at fault for what they did. We were and still are only kids who are just starting to figure out how to navigate this world. What this incident did was bring my race to the forefront of my identity. I paid more attention to how my race impacted the way I move through this world. I saw the divide between the students that already were there and those who were new, especially those who had melanin in their skin, a divide that only widened as we moved through middle school. 

What I found here was a shocking indictment of the culture at Parker which each and every single one of us is a part of and complicit in. 

Though I’m not often on the receiving end of slurs, I do find myself encountering language and sentiments that consist of cleaned-up, “politically correct” slurs or other racist sentiments. We often hear that words have power but fail to acknowledge that this power isn’t only in the overt things people say, but in the context and way they say them. 

What you hear about in mass emails barely scratches the surface of what’s happening. A student or teacher parroting harmful sentiments might not intend to harm, but these incidents slowly eat away at your sense of self worth and individuality.

 Every day, day after day, these incidents amass and you quickly find you aren’t wanted here. Despite all the correct things being said and sometimes being done publicly, there has been no wider change privately and daily, and no successful attempt to change the underlying culture which fosters this white liberal racism. 

I feel betrayed by apparent inaction. So many of my friends feel betrayed. Faculty of color are leaving in record numbers. Why should we have to keep on existing in a place which doesn’t value or respect us? 

Students often don’t have much of a choice. There are many reasons why I didn’t leave, but I wish I had. No matter how much I have tried, I can’t belong at a place that doesn’t respect me and people of color enough to proactively try and make the school more hospitable for us. 

I don’t have much hope for change. The climate surveys that have been conducted at this school have been damning, and yet, during my time here, little of substance has changed. 

But I have to be here for two more years. I can’t just give up. I’ll keep speaking my mind and I’ll keep trying to help others who can’t–no one can stop me from doing that. But otherwise, I’m at a loss, knowing I can’t put too much hope into change. All I can do is prioritize me and my wellbeing. I need to make sure that I don’t let my sense of self become consumed by the school.