In my first semester at NYU Abu Dhabi, multiple people touched my hair without my permission. I sat in a classroom where a non-Black professor nonchalantly read the N-word with no objection from my classmates, and another where a non-Black student argued that blackface was an acceptable practice. There was no objection from the professor or support from anyone in the room while I tried to argue back. Once after a class, someone insisted I must be half-white, even after telling them both my parents are Black, because I don’t look like the ‘typical’ Black person.

Naively, I thought that the diversity of NYUAD would be an escape from the racism in my home state of Georgia in the U.S. But in my first month here, it became blatantly clear that bringing students of different races, cultures and nationalities onto a campus only complicated my relationship with racism. At home, the majority of people knew that touching me without permission was a violation of personal space, while on campus it was something I had to explain for the first time in my life.

I spent much of my first year policing my reactions. I told myself it was to be expected that people weren’t aware of microaggressions from the moment they arrived on campus. But consistently insensitive interactions with people in their third and fourth years brought the reality of our campus culture to light: people were not learning. Not from their classes, nor their professors, and certainly not from the student body. This was a pattern, and it did not look like it was changing anytime soon.

So I turned to the Health Center for support, just as we are told to do over and over again during Marhaba. At my counseling appointment, the therapist called my communication style “aggressive.” I spent much of the session explaining why I had to “aggressively” assert myself in the first place, and why “aggressive” was a triggering word for me as a Black woman. Even in the space where I was supposed to feel supported, where the person I am speaking to is purportedly trained to support me, I still had to expend energy explaining the ways in which anti-Blackness shapes how Black women move through the world.

It was not until I found community with other Black women that I had a space where I felt understood. In speaking with them, I was validated and assured that my experiences were not unique. It was a relief to know that I was not alone. When thinking about what it means to be a Black woman at NYUAD, I knew I wanted to give space for my saving grace: Black women sharing their stories in their own words. These are a few of their stories, as written by Black women themselves. Because this campus is not a safe space, almost all have decided to stay anonymous.

“I'm an SRPP [Social Research and Public Policy] major and therefore had to take FOMST [Foundations of Modern Social Thought]. In our last class, I asked the professor why is it that we only learnt about white males as modern thought. I said there was much to be learnt from other parts of the world. He basically responded that he was only versed in Western thought and it’s too much of a hassle to go learn about other types of modern thought. He dismissed me and my [request] for representation in academic material. I felt isolated as others quipped at him in support, basically highlighting that Africa and other parts of the world weren’t as “sophisticated” as the Western world.” — Anonymous, Class of 2022

“[I was] constantly praised when my hair was straight and specifically told “you’re not allowed to change your hair ever again’ in a ‘joking manner.” My hair was previously in braids.” — Anonymous, Alumna

“When I enter a new building on campus that I usually never frequent, even when I am with my non-Black friends in a large group, I am singled out by public safety to show my ID. Most times, I'm the only one among the group who has to. And most times, my ID is visible from my pocket, but I am still made to show it. Even when I am not with friends, and I'm in buildings I've had classes in before, I'm still stopped among the crowd of students to show my ID. After my turn, I'm surprised [to see] no one in the crowd gets stopped to show their IDs too.” — Mccarthy Price, Class of 2022

“I was talking to one of my non-Black friends and she made a joke with the n-word, and then she gave one of those non-apologies that was like ‘Oops I know some people are kind of sensitive about that word so I guess I’m sorry.’” — Anonymous, Class of 2023

“When African students are used as an example in any discussion, it’s constantly African students labeled as a continent vs other students labeled as to where they are actually from.” — Anonymous, Alumna

“I was in a class and the professor was talking about some of the first films ever made and one of the powerpoint slides had two posters of an old TV show or movie (I can’t remember) and the characters were wearing blackface. I don’t know which was worse, all of the other students in class glancing and looking at me or the fact that my teacher was actually praising the film and not even mentioning the blatant racism in the movie.” — Anonymous, Class of 2023

These are just a handful of stories that display some of the subtle and overt racism Black women encounter at NYUAD on a regular basis. Every facet of our lives on campus is colored by ignorance. While someone touching my hair may not completely drain me, it can be the last straw after a month of experiencing varying degrees of racism in the classroom, personal settings and extra curriculars. Energy I could spend on classwork, a personal project, building personal relationships or just having fun is gone, chipped away at, just by existing on this campus, until there is barely any energy left over for myself.

To the administration, I ask: what is being done about a campus culture that is actively harming and diminishing Black women on a regular basis? Why aren’t students being effectively educated about anti-Blackness both inside and outside the classroom? Shouldn’t students be educated about racial sensitivity and consciousness starting from Marhaba until their last day on campus? If faculty already goes through sensitivity training, why aren’t Black women seeing the fruits of it in the classroom? Most importantly, after being subjected to racism day in and day out, where are we supposed to go for support? Not only are therapists on this campus notoriously overworked, but also none of them are Black and therefore cannot fully understand our positionality as Black women. Where are our spaces to just be, that we don’t have to build from the ground up?

While I deeply appreciate the spaces Black women have created — like AZIZA for instance — I want Black women at NYUAD to have more opportunities to rest and heal. I want us to walk into more safe spaces that we have not had to organize. I want us to have fewer painful stories to tell.

The Black women at NYUAD are already doing amazing things, but I wonder what we would be able to create if so much of our energy was not drained by merely existing. What would our lives look like if we could put the majority of our energy into ourselves?