A minority within a minority

Limbo. It's that age-old in-the-middle place, the spot caught in between heaven and hell. It's my life as a young black scholar.

For 16 years now, I - and other dedicated black students - have committed myself to focusing extra hard on education to make it easier to bypass the barriers that blacks habitually face in society. And every day, this devotion to learning has moved me one step farther away from a degenerative culture that is destroying America's black youth.

Each day is a struggle for me as I try to preserve my black identity amid charges of "selling out" or becoming "whitewashed." And yet each day, I am again reminded that I am also unlike most of my white peers.

Limbo. I'm caught in the narrow space straddling a cultural divide so deep-seated and far-reaching that I've learned the danger of viewing the world in strictly black and white.

Early disillusionment

In late elementary school, I noticed that a gap existed between most of my black friends and me in academic ambitions. Few seemed to place the same premium on education that I had been raised to place.

Slowly, this academic gap morphed into a social gap. Ned Sloan, a civil rights attorney with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), notes that, "There is that negative peer pressure, to some extent in the black community, that you have to be part of the in-crowd." As much as I wanted to feel accepted, I just never fitted in very well with this "in-crowd."

My experience among a white crowd wasn't any more comfortable. In the fifth grade I attended an after-school accelerated math program. When the other black girl in the class - the only other person I really knew - stopped coming, I was left alone with white students who were all friends with one other.

One day, our instructor was handing out cookies to the class as a treat. I thought she was going to hand me one too, but she overlooked me and sat down. It was how I felt every day: like a forgotten member of the class.

I soon felt equally invisible among my old friends as our relations slowly faltered. As the years rolled by and as my drive to succeed in school increased, I grew further away from my old friends until we were in different worlds.

You like rap music?!

Each year in middle school reiterated this feeling, but no one overtly acknowledged how far the divide had grown. Then, one day in the eighth grade at a packed lunch table, some kids started chanting a popular hip-hop song. I joined in and as I finished the chorus, a classmate of mine who was black paused with a look of complete surprise. "Oh, I didn't know you listen to these songs, Keianna. I thought you listened to stuff like 'Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie,'" she said.

I had never listened to the 60s pop tune she was referring to. Nor was I familiar with the singer, who, as I have recently learned, was Don McLean.

It's a common refrain among blacks and whites alike: Black students who excel academically are out of touch with black culture. In fact, blackness seems to be less about a shared heritage and more about fitting a set of stereotypes and preconceived notions.

Black youth cannot necessarily be blamed for their generalization about black identity. With the history of black culture, it's true that many blacks listen to hip-hop and enjoy other aspects of the urban life. However, it's also true that many blacks succeed as scholars to pave the way for better opportunities for future blacks in society. Many students, both black and white, have a limited view of black culture.

Black culture is so diverse that a single catchphrase cannot describe a black individual. As I observe the myriad of cultures that exist worldwide, I realize that various personalities are possible for all people, especially for black people, whose culture has been impacted by many historical factors. We must look outside the narrow scope of our realities that continue to imprison our minds.

Why do you talk so "white"?

Sloan believes that the viewing of education as "white" is negative for black youth. "We have to fight that because that is extremely dangerous for us. In our country, if we are not informed, it's difficult to fight for our rights," he says.

Upon coming to high school, many of my black peers categorized me as an outsider at the mere mention that I was in the Communications Arts Program (CAP). For most black students, the CAP and the Magnet are both abstract havens of the educational elite, the "other part of the school," far from what they feel associated with.

A limited perspective causes some black students to believe the misconception that speaking proper English is speaking "white." By labeling the usage of proper English and being dedicated to academics as "white," these students are reinforcing the societal belief that whites are better educated and therefore, superior.

Similarly, I confront a gap in relationships with white students. I may see white students often in class, but that in no way means that I always relate to them. I grew up in a strikingly different environment from most of my white peers and have a very different history. Experiences fuel understanding, which in turn fuel the genuine relationships that I have a hard time making with white students.

My observations over the years as a student on the outside peering in to each of the separate black and white communities have taught me that people cannot be classified so easily. The students who form misconceptions of me don't understand that I'm not trying to force a different identity on myself, but that this is just "me," a unique black young woman. It's hard enough trying to find my place in the world without people assuming that I am abandoning my culture and falsely adopting another.

A prospective future

In the end, I don't entirely feel at home with either my black or white peers. I can live with it - I am living with it - but this limbo shouldn't exist.

I shouldn't have to face a double dilemma in which I try to achieve higher education only to be shunned for it. I hate having to juggle a double identity where I live in my academic world but then change myself to appear "real." My blackness shouldn't be questioned simply because I aim to be an educated person.

The correct definition of black identity should include an appreciation of black history and heritage; the consciousness of black pride; the love for the color of one's skin; and most important, the desire for black progress. Education paves the way to any sort of progress. So black America, we must change our narrow perception of black identity to embrace all of its colorful aspects, instead of helping to reinforce mentally-enslaving stereotypes. Only then will we form a more united body, and only then will we finally make a collective, thus stronger, impact in society towards a better future.