a little something i wrote… (pt. 1)
"Am I A Basic Black Boy" Changed my Life
August 6, 2017, was my first day of school. I knew it was gonna be different, but not this much. I was “gifted” an opportunity to go to school on the Southside, a better school with more money, more instruments, more materials, and well more white people. This school had about 500 students and 36 of them were Black, it was overwhelming.
You know that feeling when you feel like you’ve stopped moving but the world stays in motion and everyone's proper agenda is in front of them keeping them preoccupied? That’s how I felt for the first couple of months. I remember just standing in the hallway watching the clock because I didn’t want to be too early, but I didn’t want to be late. I just felt muddled.
That’s the way I met Mrs. Potter, it was kind of funny and pretty sad. I was crying after being harassed in the bathroom. Her class was the only class that I saw, the bright colors and the angelic numbers screamed a warm safe haven, and I yearned for a safe haven. So I went in there, sat down, and cried with her tissue box in hand. She came in judgment aside and stood there. She embraced me as if we were family and she said nothing, then she opened her arms and pulled me in with a warm embrace. We had never met before, she didn’t know my name and the only reason I knew hers was because it was on her door.
She taught 7th grade English, hints why I never met her. The first words she formed were “Oh baby, it’s gonna get better.” then she looked me in the eyes and said, “You just remember, your crown follows you, don’t let it fall.”
From that day on, she was my school mom, she still is. As our relationship began to flourish, she started explaining what it was like for her as a black woman to work in an environment with mostly white people. This is how she explained it, “How do you tell a green apple that they’re wrong for not knowing what it’s like to be red if they were never taught to respect red apples as equals.” Then I expressed interest which led to us talking about Black History Month. And she said, “This school year would mark the 10th year of this school not celebrating Black History Month in any way, shape, or form.
For a couple of weeks following, I started planning a Black History Program and when I brought it up to Mrs. Potter, she was overjoyed and indulged in this project. We ended up organizing everything early, so we had about a month of just rehearsals and practices. On one of our practice days, she came up to me and asked, “Qwame, why don’t you participate in it?”
I gave her the “hell nah” look and then she responded with, “I know how you were feeling at the beginning of the year, so why don’t you tell them? Let them know how they make you feel!”
So, that’s what I did. I went home and I spent the whole weekend writing it down. And on Monday, I came in with a 978-word document titled, “Am I A Basic Black Boy?” I handed it to her and she cried as she read it. She looked up at me as she smeared a tear across her face, “You’re talented Qwame and it’s pure honesty, I can feel it.” But, because it’s a public school, I had to get verification from the Assistant Principal that my paper was good to read. When she read it she said, “It’s so raw and vulgar, I’m not sure if I should allow this. Give me a couple of days to ponder on this one.” Spoiler alert, she never got back to either of us, so we just put it into the setlist.
After the Black History Program, I got a lot of hate and backlash. Obviously, you don’t receive any kind of success or “come up” without someone not being happy or supportive of you. So, in a short-breathe, I got a lot of prepubescent white boys taunting me saying, “Are you a basic black boy yet?” or “Am I a basic white boy?”
There was this one time in particular, I was in social studies, when a guy named Jeffrey came over, from the other side of the classroom, to say, “You may not be a basic black boy, but you are what my dad calls a simple [racial slur].”
I got up so fast the teacher thought I was about to open a can of you know what on this kid and said, “Hey, chill out Qwame. I told you that having a Black History Program was a bad idea.”
I felt numb, like all of what I worked for and what I believed in, didn't matter. He just sat there, as one of my few black teachers and he just sat there and let him call me that without any repercussions or disciplinary actions. I could’ve cried but my eyes felt so dry, and I couldn’t find the right words to yell. So I did nothing. It was the most belittling moment in my life. I felt like an inanimate object and it proved to me what my responsibility was as a black young man. I needed to shake up the room, cause some chaos, make people feel uncomfortable instead of suffering in silence. My skin may not define the person I am, but it’ll contribute to who I will become.
Shortly after the school year ended, I moved back to Minnesota. When I say shortly, I don’t mean it loosely. I mean school ended May 25 and we were on a plane back on May 28. It was nice to get a break from the confederate flags and the occasional racial slurs. But I do miss the relationships that I built not only with my friends, but with leaders, teachers, principals, counselors, coaches, and foreign exchange students.
“Hi, Qwame!
I am so honored that you chose me to support you in the Black History event. I am SOOOOO proud of you. I know that there is nothing in life you can not accomplish. You are an amazing young person and I hope that you are loving all of your experiences at your high school. Please remember do not change for anyone, ever. God has given you a purpose to change the world. I watched you change things at Challenger and I know that you are trailblazing at Cristo Jesuit! I absolutely love being a teacher and knowing that you feel I helped you in some small way has truly made my year. Before I go, just wanted to share some extremely amazing new:
“This is a young man full of drive, struggle, and emotions. I see him going to high places. He went out on a limb to create a space where he and peers like himself were able to get their foot in. We need more young men like this. And let him know, “There is no such thing as a basic black boy, and if there was, you would be what people long to be as a man of color.” I’m very grateful that I had the chance to read this and I wish he was present to read it to me.”
- Katherine Johnson
Words can’t express how much you mean to me and what you’ve taught me. Please stay in touch with me, keep me updated on your progress. I pray to be able to come to your graduation one day! You will be in my thoughts and my prayers though and keep being AMAZING!!
Sincerely,
Mrs. Potter”
