‘I Am Tired’ August 2nd 2018

I find it amazing how oppression is perpetuated by the very oppressed. But really analyse it. As I have said before, there’s levels to this.

I am angry. I have been angry all afternoon. Angry at the vitriol and hate that has been unleashed at me, my wider family.  

In class, I was racially attacked by another Maori female. I make it a point to highlight her ethnicity because, in face of the façade of solidarity that remains on the hinges of global coloniality, I want to make it a case in point to remind us that people of colour, can be racist. This is not the first racist encounter I have had in new Zealand, being here 1 month. 

Racism is a global structure that is inescapable, 27 hours away from London - the other side of the world. Someone should probably examine space? I would have liked to have given her the benefit of the doubt in this situation, but unfortunately that does not qualify for pre-meditated actions, founded in racist ideology. Too often, we are ready to apply notions of forgiveness to actions that need correction. You can find the forgiveness you’re looking for at the grocery store,  do not police my emotional responses and procedures to deal with these experiences.

So today, I made my way to lecture, earlier than usual - a fact that I was happy about, seeing that I would get a seat in the middle and not the end row. Everyone always seems to sit at the edge whilst the middle is almost vacant every time, as if there holds an academic sink hole. Being early, I made my home in the middle. 

I'm feeling pretty relaxed at this point and take out my notepad to later rest my bag on the floor. Just as I am preparing to underline the lecture title and the date, the door swings open and I hear feet test the carpet as they dig into the base of the floor. I look up and it's a girl who I share two classes with. This is a person who on more than one occasion, insisted that I come to her church, to which I declined each time. Since then there has been no contact reciprocated, which I thought was strange but nonetheless I decided to move on from.

Our eyes at this point have made contact and seeing as the room is empty, the inclination to come to sit on my row next to me was unavoidable.

We greet each other and begin to watch a recorded video of the song we performed in one of the Kapa Haka classes we share. We hum the familiar tune. The conversation stays light as the topic sways over admiring the variety of voices in our performance class. As people start to clamour in, I spot another classmate who sits in the row behind me and we begin small talk. Just as I finish up talking, the girl sitting next to me, let’s call her Suzy, in the motion of sweaty palm eagerness, holds her phone in her right hand to show me a Facebook conversation between her and her friend. 

With light authority she asks me to read it. I start to read. She stops me. "You have to read it out loud". At this point, I pause to think, as from what I have gained, seeing a snippet of the conversation there is nothing of worthy of utterance but a few "Looooooooooooooools". I don’t know how to read that out loud. She asks me to read the blue as I read the white. 

At this point I felt uneasy. By reading aloud, I knew I was entering into a compromise of my integrity. By doing so, I was crossing over into a point of people pleasing that really, has no return.

As I pass through a few messages of laughing and light teasing, I have stopped reading as I feel my body tense as I come across a line that says; "You are an African buthole'. Then another. You are a nigga and something else I can’t vividly remember. And again. It repeats itself, into more spiteful anti-Black phrases. She says nothing as she stares into the screen.

(As I write this I still feel queasy and have to stand up to continue). 

I feel the blood in me rise. Righteous indignation or whatever. Venom. My ancestors. I turn to her with the flick of a light switch and ask her "What is the relevance of this? Why have you asked me to read it out loud?". She replies "Because it's funny, it was a joke". The lecture is just about to start and all I manage to get out of me in one firm response is: "It may be funny to you, but not to me. It's insensitive. It's twisted and vindictive. Please do not talk to me". I avoid and ignore her for the rest of the lecture as she offers me a lollipop and asks me about an app on PlayStore as if what she has done has not just happened. 

Mind games.

I retreat into my phone without a second thought and call my boyfriend living in London, who at the time was sleeping. The time in New Zealand was precisely 12:01pm, that is 1.01am in London. He answers on the 5th ring and I ask him to get onto WhatsApp "ASAP". In essence, the entire lecture was put behind me as I explained, exchanged, rationalised that experience over WhatsApp. In that space of time I just needed another person to reason with. You know, someone who you need not explain oppression to, someone who easily understands you and can reassure you that you're not bat crazy and it's not all in your mind. 99% of the time that is a Black person. 

I am thankful for this outlet and reassurance, as too often, racism is very hard to codify, it is fragmented conceptually which leaves you feeling as if; 1) It never happened, 2) you are over - amplifying the experience. Life is too much of a gift to continue to fall prey to such damaging realities. It is damaging to ignore traumatic experiences, a release has to happen. As someone who knows and understands the value of having an outlet, having a circle of people who understand my experiences - solidified by a trust that allows me to confide it is imperative in every circumstance to find a way. 

After the lecture, I went to see the counsellor from my department who gently reaffirmed my feelings and encouraged me to start a formal student disciplinary. The process will start tomorrow as I see the Chaplain. 

Not yet have I had a chance to speak to Suzy, but even if it has to be through a Tikanga process I will just use it as an opportunity to hold her accountable. I will go above and beyond, albeit the reality of emotional labour to have people learn from their behaviour. 

Just imagine if I were to show her a "funny" conversation between myself and my imaginary Facebook friend which contained heaps of derogatory Maori terms. Yeah right! Let’s flip the script. How would she feel? Why is it okay to do it to Black people? 

The funny thing is, I don't think that way. I don't and could never see myself thinking vindictively like that. I don't even want to know why she done it. I think the pushing question for now is how, in other communities of colour, are these types of attitudes towards Black people normalized.

What I found so sadistic about the entire encounter was the performance aspect of it. She calculated it. She asked me to say it out loud. The more I think of it the more it makes me angry. Livid. The fact of speaking out loud, is to certify the words through projection. That was her puppeteering done for the day. 

I'm glad that it happened though, so that in the words of Wizkid, I can ensure that 'bad energy stay far away'. Evil is everywhere and is consuming. The same power we use to resist and fight is the same power that is taken from us. 

I think in the end there is a way out, but the plight is turmoil. 

To anyone else out there who is going through it, real solidarity with you.