You see, I grew up in a sardine can, and I find adequate space for physical activity positively stifling. Being being soaked in oil and crammed up against a piece of tin is integral to my very existence and it's how I understand anything about everything.
These white persons' libraries are not for me; the idea that anyone should have an open space where someone else's appendage isn't always in one of your orifices is a privilege; to demand that no one spontaneously performs a prostate exam upon you without your consent is not a luxury that everyone gets to have.
I did not have to learn to study with an entire adult male forearm in my anus; I knew how to do that because a family of fifteen's use of fish packaging for a home means that you are never afforded the luxury of spaces one might genuinely consider a "body cavity".
So when I wriggled over to my University's library, I found the presence of fresh flowing air and adequate empty space literally suffocating. I really began to understand how this space was not meant for me; where were the accommodations for those of us who didn't grow up feeling entitled to gaseous atmospheric conditions? Verily, the library itself can be construed only as a colossal monument of oppression against me, and I was unprepared to be so triggered and violated.
So when I failed my first class (they expected me to write at my own desk!), I realized I simply couldn't retain information that wasn't gathered in a dark, viscous, immobilizing space. I had to crawl into the janitor's mop bucket just to make the least amount of sense out of anything. I remembered where I had come from and what I needed.
I gave up trying to learn how to study in such privileged conditions because privilege is a privilege I never had and such privileged conditions are reserved for the privileged. I was in an institution reserved for the privileged and I was not privileged even in the slightest. Even the library reminded me of it. Even the janitor's mop bucket felt just a bit too privilegey.
I just don't have a colonizer's mentality, and I don't want one. After all, it has been the ultimate bane of existence since the beginning of time.
No, I have a survivor's mentality; I am a victim and I was able to thrive nonetheless once I realized that my own personal context made me resilient enough to survive even the supreme colonizer's death cannon that is a modern University library.
You see, I grew up in a sardine can, and I find adequate space for physical activity positively stifling. Being being soaked in oil and crammed up against a piece of tin is integral to my very existence and it's how I understand anything about everything.
ReplyDeleteThese white persons' libraries are not for me; the idea that anyone should have an open space where someone else's appendage isn't always in one of your orifices is a privilege; to demand that no one spontaneously performs a prostate exam upon you without your consent is not a luxury that everyone gets to have.
I did not have to learn to study with an entire adult male forearm in my anus; I knew how to do that because a family of fifteen's use of fish packaging for a home means that you are never afforded the luxury of spaces one might genuinely consider a "body cavity".
So when I wriggled over to my University's library, I found the presence of fresh flowing air and adequate empty space literally suffocating. I really began to understand how this space was not meant for me; where were the accommodations for those of us who didn't grow up feeling entitled to gaseous atmospheric conditions? Verily, the library itself can be construed only as a colossal monument of oppression against me, and I was unprepared to be so triggered and violated.
So when I failed my first class (they expected me to write at my own desk!), I realized I simply couldn't retain information that wasn't gathered in a dark, viscous, immobilizing space. I had to crawl into the janitor's mop bucket just to make the least amount of sense out of anything. I remembered where I had come from and what I needed.
I gave up trying to learn how to study in such privileged conditions because privilege is a privilege I never had and such privileged conditions are reserved for the privileged. I was in an institution reserved for the privileged and I was not privileged even in the slightest. Even the library reminded me of it. Even the janitor's mop bucket felt just a bit too privilegey.
I just don't have a colonizer's mentality, and I don't want one. After all, it has been the ultimate bane of existence since the beginning of time.
No, I have a survivor's mentality; I am a victim and I was able to thrive nonetheless once I realized that my own personal context made me resilient enough to survive even the supreme colonizer's death cannon that is a modern University library.
Thank you for reading my story.
you, sir...
ReplyDeleteDon't you microaggress me with your ellipses.
ReplyDelete