The Language & Identity of Scholars of Color
By Biridiana Rodriguez
Think about the last time you censored yourself. The last time you codeswitched in a classroom full of white elders. The last time you took a dress off because it was too tight. The last time you hid a tattoo for an interview. The last time you choose to introduce yourself by your nickname, rather than ethnic AF name. The way we choose to speak, dress, act, etc. all belong to an identity we are attempting to portray. Often, we mistake identity as stagnant and believe that it is constructed at some point in our lives and will transcend through all spaces and places. It doesn’t.
Our identity is constructed by others when we interact with them. By choosing to say, “Isn’t this appalling?” rather “Ain’t this some shit” during academic discourse, I attempt to be validated by those listening. This is problem often faced by scholars of color who are attempting to position themselves within a predominant white. We resort to using the language – spoken, dressed, acted – of those we hope to fit in with. And we hate to admit it. Because when we do, we – whether intentionally or not – separate ourselves from the communities that afforded us a part of our identity and being.
Because I am Latina from East Los Angeles, you ain’t gotta tell me about the gang and gun violence that exists in Latino/a communities. Rather, I have to tell you that no, we’re not walking between bullets on our way to school every morning. And yes, you can walk down that street because ain’t nobody waiting on the corner to just mug you. But my absence from East Los and my presence in an Ivy League institution has undoubtedly separated me from the community, or people, I came here to serve. As early as the first time I came home from college, freshman year for winter break, there was a feeling of separation between myself and my community. My chiropractor told me, “You talk white now.” I was about ready to cuss her out, but she literally had my life in her hands.
Many of the scholars of color that I have been blessed to be taught or influenced by come from communities where they were one of the few who “made it out”. Even this notion is problematic – thinking that Black and Brown kids must leave their communities to find success. Yet, there is almost always a necessity to leave said communities to pursue a higher education. And even if an institution of higher education is within the same city, the boundaries of that institution and one’s community are invisible but impenetrable. These scholars leave in order to come back with the knowledge and skills necessary to empower their communities at large. But when, and if, they come back, do they return the same? Through newly gained perspectives, scholar of color can understand the systems and construction of their communities better and we may also begin to criticize them for their shortcomings. And because we “know better”, we might unintendedly separate ourselves from our communities in the way we speak about “them” versus “us.”
Not until recently have I realized that we have the power to construct and deconstruct identities as we move from place to place. I have the ability to portray myself as (insert identity here) by talking, walking, dressing, etc. in a way that I assume transcends that identity. However, I cannot guarantee that those I interact will perceive me as I expect them to. Hoping to not be seen as an outsider within one’s own community, one may play the part. But real g’s can see through any phoniness. Though initially you might be able to pull the wool over someone’s eyes, through various interactions, the identity you constructed may be deconstructed.
Whether we mean to or not, we separate ourselves from our communities when we begin to distinguish ourselves as scholars. We begin to talk and teach as if we are superior than our communities to validate our identity as scholars outside of them. We attempt to maintain an identity that is true to the background that gave us our resilience, but inevitably that identity transforms with our work and our own upward social mobility. The key is to recognize how our identity is transforming and how that is both positive and negative for our community. We may become an outsider to understanding the hardships faced by the communities we once belonged to, but that does not change our passion to serve those communities