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Black History Month Reflection
Amber Spry, Ph.D.
Professor, Brandeis University
I was working one evening at one of my favorite neighborhood spots. An older man saw me grading papers and asked, “Are you a teacher?” When I told him I’m a professor at the university nearby, he paused and looked back at me. Then he said, “I went to school for civil engineering and in all my years of schooling, I never had a professor who was a woman. May I sit next to you?”
We talked about his hopes and dreams for his grandkids. About his earliest experiences of politics as a reluctant soldier during Vietnam. About his travels with his wife of 45 years. About how we both came to understand race in America – though from different perspectives and in much different ways.
My work has connected me with incredible people. I feel enormously fortunate to have met people from all walks of life, from diverse backgrounds – people whose stories remind me that the work I do isn’t for me.
It isn’t to make me feel better, or feel vindicated for my past experiences, or to right personal injustices.
It isn’t about being a black American, or a mixed race American, or a woman, or educated, or a Christian.
Still, my work is inextricably tied to those things.
My work has been informed by the moments when my identity, the way I perceived myself and the way others have perceived me, influenced my interactions. When I earned my doctorate degree and decided to teach, write, and conduct research about politics and identity, I never could have imagined how my own background and experiences would become part of a story much bigger than my own.
Fewer than two percent of U.S. citizens earn a Ph.D. Of those, less than 5 percent are black women. And in my field, black women are closer to one percent. Learning to excel in a space that was built without my inclusion in mind has taught me to commit to a broad notion of community – and my community extends far beyond the circles I can see. There are people whose hard work and sacrifices have paved the way for the life I live and the opportunities I have encountered; I feel a deep sense of responsibility to honor that legacy by creating space for others wherever I go.
I’m here to open doors so people from all backgrounds can excel in the spaces I influence. We all have so much to give. We have so much to learn.
The conversation I had with a neighbor while grading papers reminded me how much we stand to learn when we set aside our expectations and are open to people and the stories they are willing to share. A kind person’s invitation to conversation has reminded me again that across generations, across experiences, across the boundaries we construct, it is humanness that unites us all. That’s why I believe Black History Month is so meaningful – it is an intentional time to reflect on the connectedness of our experiences. A time to see the histories of Black people as integral to the history of our broader community. A time to call ourselves to action in the continued story of inclusion, freedom, and shared humanity.