The only one. A prized possession.
Truly filled with hope and outward expression.
I came in thinking "Oh, life would be grand
For a Black woman who was of high demand."
But I speak my truth and my peers despise,
I do my work, but my advisor denies
I live my life, but I can't seem to advance
And they wonder why I am sick of this song and dance.
This poem was written in March of 2023. I was working on my dissertation and had engaged with so many stories told by Black women in graduate school. It was meant to quickly sum up the tensions that Black women face as the only one or one of few in environments where they are hyper-visible and invisible, overvalued and undervalued, respected yet demeaned, and admired yet shamed. So we do amazing work but we are constantly overlooked for promotions and raises, questioned for our intellect, ridiculed by our culture, and more. I mean... you would think being the only one in these environments would make you a hot commodity.
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