Opinion: The Plight of High Achieving Minority Students- Words from your Favorite Token

So many culturally relevant practices target understanding and reducing malbehavior in racial minority students. What about the kids who do well?

Let me preface this article by saying, it's probably not my best literary work. Nevertheless, it may be my most impassioned. I am by no means an educational research scholar but I do know the testament of my lived experiences. Written in 30 minutes while I waited for my car oil to be changed, I had to blow off some steam I had been feeling for a good 18 years.

All my life I've been labeled as "academically gifted" for whatever it's worth. I was good at being obedient and portraying academic excellence through rote memory and educational assimilation. This earned me many things: certificates for high scores, praise from teachers, original nicknames like "token", and most importantly, a very confused identity.

To explain this, I'll have to take you way back to elementary school circa 2003. It didn't take long for 7-year-old me to realize I was the only Black student in a sea of White kids when it came time to break out into our groups. My elementary school was pretty racially diverse from what I remember; there were definitely other Black kids in the class- I just never got to work with them. The "gifted" classes were reserved for the White students and for tokens like me. It was uncomfortable sometimes, but I didn't have the words, the knowledge, or the advocate to speak up for me. One of the worst parts was watching the Black students get to participate in what I liked to call the "fun activities". My elementary school had a special program for Black boys to teach them about positive masculinity and character. I knew the program well-it was headed by my father. A few years later, a program for girls emerged and I wasn't selected. I always wondered why though now I have an idea.

This phenomenon followed me to middle and high school. I still lacked the capacity to voice what I was going through as the uncomfortable feelings of being the only Black student in the gifted classes grew. Race was becoming more obvious and kids were mean. I couldn't hide when we had to talk about how slavery "wasn't so bad" in history class. Or when other girls refused to play with my hair while playing "braid train" because it "felt funny". School also became a lot more segregated. Instead of having breakout groups for varying academic levels, now our whole classes were sorted. By 6th grade, I no longer had any interaction with Black or Latinx students. I watched as other students of color got to attend special programming and became disheartened as I never seemed to get the invite. Special academies headed by universities set to acknowledge difficulties minority students may face in school in life. There were camps and clubs catered to addressing these challenges and while I longed for someone to recognize my struggles, I was forced to go through it alone.

This is the plight of high achieving minority students: we are invisible to the American education system.

There are a lot of things minority students face, especially those that are able to slip under the radar by being academically gifted. Schools, teachers, and even parents sometimes forget that we are not immune to racial-stress, discrimination, or low self-esteem. We are also not all somehow just as connected to social or academic resources as the White or financially well-off students. I believe high achieving minorities are often shafted of three things:

1. Cultural Opportunities
2. Comradery
3. Core Identity

Culture: the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group.

Part of my job is traveling to different states and observing culturally relevant programming in youth and adolescents color. I've traveled taking notes on programs geared towards 1st and second immigrants who have trouble in school, low-achieving Native American youth, and Black males without high school degrees. I love what I see and I wish there was more of it. I also wish there was similar programming for students like me.

Racial trauma and stress don't always manifest itself in disruptive classroom behaviors and failing grades. A lot of times, it masks itself as quite the opposite.

That Black girl you see answering every question correctly, staying up for hours studying while campaigning for student body president and playing 3 varsity sports is not unsusceptible to the torment of racism. If anything, she's more aware of it and that awareness drives her need for perfection.

My first year in college was a struggle. I always seemed to be out of the loop. Somehow, all the listservs with opportunities for minority students hadn't reached my inbox. A bunch of the Black students in my class year had attended pre-college programs and met each other long before school started. My guidance counselors never told me about certain opportunities and I know they were cognizant of them as I watched them send other minority students to similar programs. I laugh now as I recall not being added to the campus "Black Groupme" until my senior year. I knew nothing and had no one. Opportunities passed me by and I lacked the resources to get connected and plug into the Black community at my school. It was like grade school all over again and once again, I found myself peddling through independently. By the end of freshman year, I was exhausted. I applied for a couple of positions in Black lead spaces but didn't know the right people or didn't have the clout to get selected. Word of Scholarships and internships specified for minority students never reached me. Eventually, I gave up.

Comradery: the feeling of friendliness, goodwill, and familiarity among the people in a group

I think one of the most disheartening feelings growing up is that I never felt like I belonged. I was singled out, of course, for my hair texture, skin color, and physical features. I didn't look like anyone in my classes and that was triggering- especially as race socialization research tells us children understand racial differences AND their implications as early as 3 years old. Schools are structured so that you move with a heard. But what if your "herd" makes you feel like an outcast? I couldn't run, I didn't know how to speak up, and I hated myself for it. I longed to be in classes with the other Black kids. I felt like I didn't need to hide so much of myself if I could just have one person who looked like me. The other students didn't listen to the same music, wear the same J's, or even pack the same lunches. High achieving minorities, especially those growing up in the rural south, often lack same-race friendships, mentors, and teachers. Access to intellectual rigor was great, but I would have traded it all to sit at the same lunch table as the other Black kids.

High achieving minority students lack connectedness. In college, I tried to research organizations and opportunities on my own but it always felt like everyone knew something I didn't. Years of being separated from other Black students, I had some things to learn. I was made fun of for how I talked, what I wore, and how I acted. I was made fun of for knowing certain things and not knowing others. In high school, I was praised for denying my Black culture, in college, I was scorned for it.

Core Identity: There's a certain overwhelming loneliness that comes with becomes familiar for lots of us tokens.

I filled my loneliness by excelling in school. If I was smart, people would need me to be their partner. If I could ace tests, teachers would praise me. My whole core was built on achievement and it didn't take me long to realize that that was a rather shaky foundation. I lived for praise and acknowledgment because it felt like for a split second, I was seen. This became painfully apparent during my high school chemistry classes. By high school, I had transferred to a practically homogenously White school and I had no choice but to be the token. I forced myself to study subjects like AP chemistry to "compensate" for my Blackness. I felt that if I could prove my intelligence, the rest of my sub-par identity would be forgiven. I know it sounds crazy, and I didn't actively think these thoughts but they were like subconscious probings that guided my every move. I was terrible at chemistry and with each failed test, I felt as though I had nothing left to give. I wonder if things would have been different if someone along the way had told me I didn't have to try so hard. Or that the entire Black race wasn't resting on my shoulders. I wonder if that would have stopped the panic attacks or inescapable anxiety that came with each class period or test day. I wonder if it would have allowed me to study subjects I was passionate about like theater or chorus. I wonder.

High achieving minority students often have their entire identity built off of how well they do in the classroom. There's no one telling them to be proud of their race or culture. They aren't told to embrace the color of their skin or gold in their hearts and as a result, they learn from a young age that only perfection will make them acceptable in the eyes of society.

This article isn't meant to whine or point fingers. I also don't want to discredit the amazing friends and teachers of all races that made my experience bearable. My chemistry teacher recognized my hard work and helped me pass, I have countless friends who supported me and continue to support me to this day, and eventually, I was able to validate my experiences with others who had gone through the same thing. I want to give insight into the lives of students that are often forgotten and who are negatively influenced by systemic and institutional racism. Those perfectionist behaviors still follow me today- partly due to my innate type A personality, but also partly because it's all I've ever known. I couldn't find my voice until senior year when a teacher gave me the intellectual freedom to articulate the struggle I had so elegantly obscured all those years. I wish someone had taken the time to reach out and I encourage administrators, teachers, and peers to pay attention to the tokens in your classroom. These students are carrying a heavy load and if not addressed early on, it will haunt them well into adulthood.

Young yet passionate, Brianna is a social justice advocate committed to eradicating racial health disparities and improving life trajectories for racial minorities and other marginalized groups through behavioral health research. When not attempting to save the world, she's either raving about her pit-mix, Zola or solving mysteries on Investigation Discovery.