Has my race affected my well-being at Bristol?

By Jasmine Burke, Wellbeing Editor

Wellbeing Editor Jasmine Burke discusses her experience as a black student at Bristol and whether that has had an impact on her well-being.

Recently, Epigram posted an article about how black students are 20% less likely to get an offer for Bristol than their white counterparts. Honestly, the statistic itself came as no shock to me, but I was particularly interested by a line in the article noting that ‘(BME students) were also more likely to suffer from mental health conditions due to microaggressions or direct racism.’ It is no secret that my well-being has been less than perfect throughout my University experience, but recently I had been talking to my friends from home about what my position as a black student at the University had to do with it. Now, with the emergence of this article, it seems like as good a time as ever to discuss it.

My education experience has been far from simple; counting this University, I have moved schools a total of six times and this includes a variety of schools ranging from private, state and briefly convent (Yes, my head teacher was a nun). Therefore, on arriving in Bristol, I did not experience as much of a ‘culture shock’ as I know some people experienced. In my private primary school, I was one of four black people and six people of colour in a year of 30 students. When you are five years old, you honestly could not care less what race you are in comparison to your friends, and so growing up in that environment I became accustomed to not noticing the lack of cultural diversity around me. As I grew older I was more aware of it, but again, due to my earlier education it has never seemed like an issue to me – that is, until someone draws attention to it.

I was the only non-white person in the room, and I did not fancy educating people that I barely knew on why I did not think that ‘racist jokes are alright.’

One of the most distinct memories that I have of first year is being sat in a random flat for pre-drinks and overhearing two people – one of which was a friend of mine – say "Yeah, but racist jokes aren’t that bad". I made eye contact with another friend as it was said and she watched, waiting for me to respond. However, I couldn’t. Why? Because I was the only non-white person in the room, and I did not fancy educating people that I barely knew on why I did not think that ‘racist jokes are alright.’ During this situation, I was met with an odd sense of discomfort that I had not experienced particularly often. I did not want to stay around for the racist jokes that followed, but I also did not want to make a scene by leaving. Essentially, I just wanted a hole to swallow me up in the ground.

In the last few years, I have experienced many subtler microaggressions than the one above. Be that listening to people around me put on fake African/Caribbean accents and watching them find them hilarious, or being the only black person in a seminar during a discussion of race and feeling like a token that I never asked to be.

Over the summer, I read Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book, ‘Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race’ and it put something into words that I had not been able to vocalise before. When it comes to a lot of race related issues – especially ones on campus – I find myself desensitised, because I no longer have the energy to explain something that I have had to deal with my whole life.

As much as I would love to speak up for every race-related issue that comes up at University, it is exhausting, it is not always my place (I am one black person with one unique experience of being black – I never want to feel like I am putting words into other people’s mouths) and honestly, a lot of the time it seems pointless. I am more than happy to discuss race with my friends who genuinely want to learn, but – as much as I would love to help change people’s opinions and fight for a personal cause – I feel emotionally and physically drained when it comes to explaining issues to those who I know will not listen and do not care. With this, I am left with an added layer of guilt: how can I expect any sort of change to happen if I am not willing to fight for it?

This mental battle has definitely had an impact on the way I pick my units. I find myself actively avoiding literature units that involve talks of slavery, or texts with racial mistreatment because, in a room full of majority white people, I do not want to be reminded of my own ‘otherness’. I cannot think of anything more uncomfortable than sitting in a room discussing slavery and being the only person being able to speak out about the fact that it is in my lineage.

It is a really weird and foreign experience for me, because growing up I tried hard to not let my race affect me. However, I feel like – despite attending two majority white private schools for 8 years – it is only now that it has begun to feel like an actual issue. For me, experiencing ‘otherness’ lies in the smallest things. Be that having a (straight, white) friend rant to me about how less privileged they are when it comes to the job market because of their education (Try facing the job market a state school education and institutionalised racism), or hearing guys at pres describe their ideal girls and every description being euro-centric. I would love to say that these things do not and should not bother me, but three years of frequent tiny little incidents eventually start to weigh on you.

I feel like a lot of the issues affecting my well-being at University have stemmed from feeling like I do not have a place. I have spent a lot of my life feeling “not white enough” for my white friends and “not black enough” for my black friends, and while I finally found my place in my life in London, coming to University I had to do the same thing all over again and I did not succeed.

Obviously, like I mentioned earlier, I am only one black person and I cannot comment on a whole race’s experience. The same way that I know there are probably many other ethnicities and ‘minority’ groups that feel that their position has impacted their experience too, but I do not feel qualified to speak on their behalf. However, can I sit here and say that my race has influenced my well-being at Bristol University? Yes. And often, it lies in the smaller things.

Creating a more diverse and inclusive environment definitely takes time and I do believe that eventually this University and many others will make this happen with both its staff and its students.

I would love to end this article with a list of things that could be done to help, but honestly I do not have a concrete answer. Creating a more diverse and inclusive environment definitely takes time and I do believe that eventually this University and many others will make this happen with both its staff and its students. However, in the meantime I suppose all I can recommend is that people be mindful of eachother. Also, if you can relate to this feeling of not belonging - regardless of your race or situation - feel free to send me a message or contact me through the Epigram Wellbeing writers' group.

Featured Image: Epigram / Jasmine Burke