I think back to when I was ten years old, a little black girl who thought that making an all-white cheerleading squad would make her more acceptable and beautiful. I think of that ten-year-old black girl who was sycophantic to the white girls trying out in hopes that she would be liked. I think of that ten-year-old black girl who manipulated her smile and body to appease the all-white judging panel for a spot on the team. I think of that same ten-year-old black girl whose white so-called friends got in, barely looking her in the face once they passed through those doors to celebrate with the rest of their squad. And I think of who I was at Princeton: a nineteen-year-old black woman who angered some anonymous person by being in an elite space. I had to be reminded of my blackness and womanhood because those two identity markers were supposedly the things that put me in a bind.
Back then, I wasn’t opinionated; I was whiny. I wasn’t smart; I was foolish. I wasn’t accepted; I was taken in out of pity. I grinned. I grinned and I grinned and I grinned some more. What the experience taught me was that I had, in a sense, made it to a place where I was never supposed to be. Someone tried to put me in my place, but it was too late. I was already all up in the space, reading the same books, taking the same classes, studying with the same professors, and eating alongside them at the same dining halls. For every hint of brown that they saw, their minds went haywire. Every black girl present caused a disruption. It was not only our presence that made them mad, but our excellence. They might have had the privilege not to conceptualize black women in their spaces, but now they saw them in the flesh, moving and navigating just like them. This was their nightmare and my joy.
Surprise.
You should’ve known I was coming.
Acknowledgments
Dear Mom and Dad, I know some parts of this book may have made you gasp or clutch your chest but I love you dearly and I am blessed to be called your daughter. Thank you for believing in me even though I cast that former dream of being a doctor aside. Everything I write is in honor of you.
To my four beautiful sisters and my eight nieces and nephews, I love you all. No matter how much we get wrapped in our own respective lives, I can still feel your love and support no matter where I am. I hope you can feel mine as well. To the rest of my family—-stepmother, uncles, brothers-in-law, aunts, nieces, nephews, grandparents, cousins—I love you.
To my late stepfather, I hope you’re entertaining all the angels up there with your stories. I also hope you’re proud of me.
I would like to thank Monica Odom, my wonderful literary agent, who took a chance on a small-town New Jerseyan writer when no one else would.
To the Harper Perennial team—Sofia Groopman, Amy Baker, Danny Vasquez, Megan Looney, Mary Sasso, Amanda Pelletier, Kim Racon, Tina Andreadis—thank you for your immense support and the ability to respond to emails very, very quickly.
Hannah Wood, thank you for acquiring this book. I never would’ve imagined that a chance dinner over Ethiopian food in Harlem would lead us to be a part of each other’s lives in this way. I am indebted to you.
Thank you to Alex Chee, Porochista Khakpour, Ashley Ford, and Alana Massey for being my early readers and for bestowing upon me compliments that I will carry with me for as long as I keep writing.
Thank you to Jade, Dion, Liz, Maraiya, Safy, Suleika, Aric, Angela, Alli, Stephanie, Brandon, Sarah, and Suzan for reminding me that although writing is what I do, that’s not all that I am. If I missed your name and you’ve known me for a while, my apologies. This is a lot of pressure to remember all at once! Your laughs and your open ears and hearts have carried me tremendously throughout this journey.
Thank you to Princeton and the Bennington MFA program for shaping this once insecure girl into a fearless woman who questions and listens but also resists and challenges when necessary.
Thank you to Catapult, particularly Andy, Yuka, and Mensah, for pushing my writing to another stratosphere of artistry.
Thank you to you, reader, for trusting me enough along this journey full of my darkest moments and most triumphant strides. We made it together.
Thank you, God, for never leaving me when I was too afraid to write my honesty, giving me peace that surpasses understanding when an assignment is complete, and endowing me with grace to pick up and start again the next day.