Page 8 - Reflections on the Danger of a Single Story

In college, I had an experience with my roommate that made a lasting impact on my life. After moving in and settling down with my belongings, my roommate sighed and shared how relieved she was that I was so cool. She said, “my sister was so worried because you are Spanish and from the Bronx.” I was shocked and in disbelief at her emboldened disrespect and said, “What is supposed to be so scary about a Latina from the Bronx?” She responded, “It’s a big city and she’s always said how rough people from the Bronx are but I am so happy you are not like that.” I didn’t know what to say or how to react. I just smiled and left it alone. From that moment forward, I felt like all of the white people in my college felt just like Kathleen did about me. Throughout my time there, I made it a point to socialize with only the Black and brown students; I carried my roommate’s story about me with me at all times. I felt the effects of imposters syndrome as soon as I learned I was accepted to the University of Rochester and the interaction with Kathleen reinforced my feelings of not belonging. I held on to that and it made it hard to navigate all aspects of my college life; like a cloud looming over me. I struggled with reaching out to professors for help and didn’t speak to anyone in my department of study. At the graduation for the Mathematics department, I turned to my family in tears wanting to leave. I was the only woman of color graduating that year. I didn’t know anyone. My professors didn’t know me. I had worked so hard to shelter myself from having anyone discover I was this Latina from the Bronx that I found myself in a room full of strangers after four years. I still feel the effects of Kathleen’s story today. Sometimes, I doubt myself or my accomplishments because the typical story of Latinas from the Bronx are not all like mine.
As an HEOP student in college, I had to attend a summer bridge program in order to ease the transition from high school. During an introductory dinner I noticed a white woman sitting within the crowd of Black and brown students. We were meeting to discuss the details of spending our first summer in college on our campus. I understood that I was an HEOP student because I was a low-income, first generation student. When I spotted Livnat, white with red hair, I thought, “What is this white girl doing here? She doesn’t need help like the rest of us.” At the time, I believed that to be white meant to be wealthy. I couldn’t understand why Livnat would need to be part of a program that was helping poor city kids get to college. I assured myself she would not be someone I would ever speak to in the summer program because we would have nothing in common. On the day we moved in, she popped out of the elevator with a lot of energy and was one of the first people to greet me. She immediately befriended me and made me feel at ease. Later, I learned that she was Israeli and the first person in her family to go to college. Livnat and I became best friends and I eventually shared the story of her that I had created in my mind. I realized that in telling myself a single story about who I assumed Livnat was disempowered her and closed me off to actually knowing her.
From having single stories told about me to me being the one to have one about others, I have learned how much we can lose by holding on to false narratives. I know that perceptions about me that are disempowering will continue to be a part of my existence but I don’t have to hold on to what others think about me as tightly as I did in college. I also know that I have to check myself and my own privilege and perceptions about others and the things I have come to believe are true but are not.
CINDY FLORES