The 37th Best Place to Live in America

In the late ’90s, my parents brought me home to a suburban town in northern Connecticut near the Massachusetts line. The town was quaint, with old houses touting 18th century New England, and a community that seemed to protect and serve one another. This was the town I always wanted to be a part of, and in many aspects today would like to have felt nostalgic for. However, when we celebrate the past, we always seem to glorify the beautiful parts, the memories that make us feel good rather than the brutal truth – and the truth is if I had grown up in 18th century New England, I would have been a slave – one of 5 in the town at the time.

But instead, I grew up in a town that was 92% white. The seemingly perfect town filled with church members, soccer moms, lovers of their community, has a glaringly dark past with racism. All that to say – that the town where I grew up is a place where black people make up only 2% of the total population and no one seemed to care.

We don’t talk about what it means to be such a small minority in a place that is reportable “safe” and a great place to live. I don’t disagree that it is “safe”, but these statistics are made by and for white people. My memories of the town are distorted but I know of the trials and tribulations that my family went through and other Black people, even if they try to hide behind high-end cars and responsibility politics. The truth is that towns like mine are “perfect” in theory because they intentionally exclude others who threaten their collective identity. They run away from the issues at hand and instead put on a shiny smile like parents attending their kid’s fundraising event, to deflect that they are in fact not perfect and sustained oppressive systems. If you are “perfect” then issues such as mental health, poverty, sexism, racism, and more don’t exist.

I went to school from kindergarten to high school here. I only had one black teacher in middle school who wanted to make me feel like I belonged. I didn’t. I knew it. And he did too. But he tried because he knew what I would be facing throughout my life. But the other teachers and neighbors were stronger, using their polite demeanors to constantly surveil and harass me into knowing my place. The racism tied with sexism, wealth discrimination, and prejudice because of my family’s status as black immigrants was psychological warfare served with a smile.

Fast forward to today while black men and women are killed constantly and our ideals of democracy for all are crumbling. I’m bombarded with fake activism on my social media feed and then puppies or someone’s trip to Long Island. It’s a weird type of dystopia. Justice still has not been served – not to Breonna Taylor, not to Trayvon Martin, not to George Floyd, and not to the 2% of Black alumni who attended these primarily white institutions alone. They all deserve better. We deserve better and I am empowered by the lives of other Black alumni and people of color across the nation; whose parents worked to put them into systems that would benefit them, only to realize those systems were not created for them. We are resilient, and we won’t be held to the standards of the systems that oppressed us. Now is the time to act. We are the 2%. Support black alumni in Connecticut and across the nation by signing the petition now.

Petition: Improve Racial Inclusivity in Tolland Public Schools