A Journey of Fear, Confusion, and Self-Discovery

When I arrived in the United States in the waning days of 2020, I found myself grappling with a new sense of fear and confusion. It was a year marked by immense suffering for Black Americans, notably due to the merciless murder of George Floyd. The sheer horror of a person's life being extinguished by the pressure of a knee on their neck until they could no longer breathe was unimaginable. The haunting words, "Please, I can't breathe!" resonated more profoundly than any horror movie I had ever seen. However, amidst Floyd's cries of agony, there was another word he uttered, one that may have gone unnoticed by some but held a deep significance for me – "Mama."

In moments of excruciating pain, when one feels utterly helpless and abandoned, they instinctively call out to their mother. It doesn't matter if she is near or far, alive or gone; she is the one who can either share your pain or make the ultimate sacrifice to save you. She loves you unconditionally. As someone who was heading thousands of miles away from his mother for the first time, and especially to the state where Floyd was tortured – I was in Nairobi awaiting a visa interview when Floyd's life was tragically murdered – I felt an immense weight on my heart. I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if I were in Floyd's shoes, a fellow Black man, yelling "Mama" in my final moments.

To confront this fear and discomfort, my mind made a conscious decision to shape the way others perceived me. I resolved to always appear as good, kind, intelligent, high-class, educated, and honest, even though I inherently possessed these qualities. Unfortunately, due to the color of my skin, I often feared that others might misjudge me as poor, uneducated, deceitful, or harsh. These perceptions lurked in the depths of my unconscious mind.

My mind came to a profound realization that I needed to actively challenge and transform these negative stereotypes by projecting the opposite image. In stores, I refrained from haggling over prices to avoid appearing financially strained. When passing by strangers, I made it a point to smile and exchange greetings. I eagerly shared my intelligence, the prestigious university I attended, and my demanding, stimulating major with others.

However, I guess it would never go too far unless this white man turned my stereotypes into reality. In August 2021, just days before my 21st birthday, I passed my driving license test. As we know, there are different types of licenses for those under 21 and those 21 and above. The DMV clerk advised me to wait until my birthday to obtain the license meant for those over 21, sparing me the need to make a change in a matter of days. Meanwhile, my younger brother, at 19, passed the test too and needed a licensed guardian to accompany him to get his driving license. We were still amid the COVID-19 pandemic, and he got an appointment in a faraway town at such an early time. My dad was over 60 and dealing with chronic illnesses, and we couldn't bother him to accompany my brother. Without hesitation, I stepped in as my brother's guardian and drove him to the DMV.

We approached a white man who appeared to be a manager. I presented my documents, including my test passing papers and my previous permit, and asked if I could be my brother's guardian, explaining that I was about to turn 21. What he said next sent shivers down my spine, evoking fear and summoning the specter of George Floyd. He said, "You know what kid, because you don't have the money to pay for your license fee, you created all of these…." My confidence shattered, and I hastily left the DMV, driving home with a heavy heart. Since that day, I have diligently maintained a carefully curated image of myself, tirelessly striving to dismantle negative stereotypes others might hold about me. I later told my older brother, and his response hinted at his struggles with this same fear and confusion.

Nonetheless, I gradually realized that not everyone harbors such negative stereotypes, but it wasn't until I encountered this white girl that I was jolted into confronting my own perceptions of how others see me. I remember that day, loading a commercial delivery truck. I saw this beautiful girl coloring a book while waiting for her packages to come. Curiosity got the better of me, and I inquired, "Is that a biology book?" She replied, "Anatomy." I proceeded to ask about her school and major, but she never reciprocated with the same questions. While there could be various reasons for her response, at that moment, I felt my fear and confusion overwhelming me, and I divulged everything about myself. I proudly mentioned my affiliation with an outstanding university and my involvement in a challenging and captivating field of study. It was a strange and somewhat exhilarating experience, marking the moment when I truly found out the roots of my confusion, which ultimately traced back to George Floyd's tragic death.

Thank you for reading my journey of fear, confusion, and self-discovery.
Sincerely,
Aman