Being in the helping field most of us just want to give back. Give back with the expectation of little to nothing in return. That is the internal and external perception of most people from the outside looking in. All of this comes with sacrifice, commitment, and a shared sense of being kind to one another.
Having said all of this, as an African American male and former school counselor, that too comes with a perception as well. The perception of myself is that I am not like the former school counselor and/or the norm of what you typically have seen or will see in elementary, middle or high schools. There are not a lot of “others” that look like me. (This is not an uncommon aspect of being in my shoes throughout my life) My build is not your build, my vision is not your vision, my face is not your face, my speech is not your speech, and my approach is not your approach. I am different than you.
While I may have played football in middle school, high school and college (club football), that shouldn’t give you the right to pre-judge me. Walking across my undergraduate college campus and not fitting the mold of a well known athlete or being a part of a fraternity was not the norm. I am and never have been the norm walking my own path and trying to make my journey my way and owning that walk.
Fast forward to walking down the hall of a high school as a school counselor. Wearing my normal collard polo shirt quietly speaking and giving eye contact along the way. Speaking to mostly everyone, I still speak and move on with or without acknowledgement from my educated coworkers. Most days I walk the same path and speak to the same people. Well into the school year and almost ending the first semester there is one in particular that hardly speaks. That one decided to speak one day, saying the wrong thing to me on that day. Those words she spoke made me feel inches from the ground. While I was content for the moment at just getting an acknowledgement, it seemed to stick with me longer than I feel like it should. All she said was, “Good morning Coach”.
I am not your Coach. Things changed in me after that day, and after those words she spoke to me. Is that what I look like in this school building to her and maybe others? Is the stereotype true? Do we all “look alike” to her and others in this school building? All of the racist perceptions, stereotypes, and words of hatred poured through my mind. This may have been a minor thing to fixate on in the current world that we live in with my people, black people getting killed for walking down the street, speaking out, and simply sitting at home on the couch.
However, this is my reality, my story, my perception of those perceiving me to be something I am or am not. Tired doesn’t begin to explain the feeling of being put into a box of others that I admire and have so much respect for. My journey, my truth, my reality is this. I am still, not your Coach!
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