My name is Tia

I am a 19-year-old black female student.

This statement was written with true pain, however, I present to you a very small look into my early years of secondary education, which had a devastating impact on my mental health and, resulting in 5 suicide attempts from the ages of 11-19, chronic depression and anxiety.

At secondary school amongst 1500 students, I was the only black person (predominantly white). From the very first day it was apparent that I was unwelcome and this was exemplified every day through the actions of students and the complacency of teachers. Micro-aggressions were rife, lack of representation and attitudes towards racism were pitiful.

These are a few examples:

‘you are a coconut’

‘you are very articulate for your kind!’

‘you are not like other black people’

‘look at my spray tan, I am nearly as dark as you’

‘your hair looks so messy’

‘Why can you wear braids? But I can’t’

‘if I am friends with you, can I say ‘n****’?’

‘How come you don’t like KFC?’

This incessant covert racism led to me feeling insignificant and incompetent, which during adolescent rapidly internalised to self-hatred and feeling utterly worthless. Coming from a multicultural primary school, I did not realise society placed my black identity at the forefront of my existence. Self-deprivation followed, as I was led to believe every essence of blackness was distasteful and should rightfully be criticised. This made me do things to seek white approval but also left me conflicted as I did not fit the perpetuated stereotype of a young black child. I remember at age 14 asking my mother, if there was any possible way for me to be white so I could fit in and be accepted in an environment where I was an outcast. Although my mother did her very best to reassure me, it did not change my reality. School days became what I described as ‘an isolated pit of despair and inadequacy’. No one wanted to establish a friendship with me, let only communicate without mentioning a negative connotation about my race or features. This insufferable isolation seemed to be oblivious to the teacher, I reach out trying to seek help from student services regarding this prolonged inferiority complex present in school but I was ignored and hushed aside. My reality denied and solutions that were offered were all based on me adapting my behaviours, rather than addressing the issue at hand and the fact is, no one wants to have this uncomfortable conversation that a child is being isolated, exclude and outcast solely on the premise of his/her race, let alone try to fine effective solutions.

This silence became deafening and what was once discrimination was now racially motivated bullying. I became vulnerable, small remarks were now profound. My name abolished and replace with ‘nigger’, ‘blacky’, ‘the Oreo in a marshmallow school’. I vividly remember being reminded that my skin was the colour of poop, therefore, insisting that I should scrub hard with a wash. Can you imagine yourself at 14, scrubbing your body pleading, crying, begging the black to vanish?

The teacher refused to acknowledge the racism but in fact fuelled it. Tokenism was at the forefront of my education. The saying ‘let us get a black person perspective’ was thrown around so casually, that I did not understand that was wrong till I was much older. Moreover, when I did feel able to speak, I remained silent in fear of demonization and embodying the stereotype of a confrontational black woman.

The teacher would always come to me last, regardless if I placed my hand up for help first. I would see their eye flicker past me like I was invisible, which indeed made me feel like the personification of invisible and shamed for being born black.

Criticism toward my hair being inappropriate and suggesting it should be more ‘tamed’ or ‘straightened’.

Out of all the things I have shared, the most profound thing, was that the only member of staff of the faculty who looked like me (black woman), never once acknowledged me in the same way as my white counterpart. Although each individual discrimination was imperceptible, over time a pattern emerged where I was over disciplined due to racial bias likely have be stemmed from her own personal turmoil of being the only black teacher in an predominantly white environment.

If that does not solidify the toxicity of my environment, the deterioration of a once joyful young black child to a child who tries to kill herself to rid of the trauma it caused, will.

I was told to ignore racism, my experience and feelings denied, MY present belittled.

“I am Tia and this is my truth.”