It’s an uneventful Sunday evening. I sit down to begin the reading that I must complete by Tuesday. I run my index finger down my worn-out, smudged syllabus until I come across the assignment schedule for this week.

My stomach drops as my eyes meet the title for the week's readings— “Facing Race and Discrimination”.

Not this, again.

Tuesday comes and so I attend my 11 am and 1 pm classes feeling disconnected from the reality of life. I find myself sitting stiff and anxious on the edge of my seat as I await my torture.

All too soon 2:15 arrives and so the show begins.

I watch the pool of mostly white students in my class squirm like children in their seats as the professor defines modern-day slavery, the school to prison pipeline, and the like. As the class creeps into a discussion I begin to sweat ferociously.

This invisible spotlight really highlights just how black I am.

The discomfort and tension in this room paralyze me. I’m careful not to move a muscle when the professor asks for the class’s opinion. The room is eerily silent, and I can’t tell if all eyes are actually on me or if my uneasiness has pushed me into a state of hallucination.

Get me out of here now.

As of the fall of 2017 Butler University’s undergraduate population is made up of 4,426 students.

82.4% identify as White.

3.7% identify as African American.

3.6% identify as Hispanic.

0.2% identify as Native American.

0.0% (1 student) identifies as Hawaiian/Pacific Islander.

2.8% identify with two or more races.

Needless to say, when observing any given class, you will most likely see fewer than three people of color in the room.

Each day I am the fly in a glass of milk, the odd one out. Never am I just Zoya, another student. I am a diversity quota. I am the model minority. I am the educator, the mediator, the spokesperson. I am the voice of every brown person.

I’ve come to realize that yes, I avoid wearing my natural hair because it isn’t easily tamed, but it is much more than that. I also choose to erase this trait of mine because it is a large indicator that I am not like the others; I am an outsider. As terrible as it is, I flatten my kinky curls each morning in hopes that I can somehow whiten myself enough so that the others don’t notice me.

Maybe if my hair is straight enough, long enough, smooth enough I can fool my classmates. Maybe then they won’t use me as their token black girl.

Honestly, there is not an instant solution to the discomfort that I and many other students of color feel on a daily basis. I am not sure what I'm expecting from putting these thoughts into the world.

I guess, for the time being, I want you to hear me right now at this moment. Please, listen very clearly to what I am saying.

I don't want the class to wait in silence for my opinions on diversity and racial justice. I don't want the class to be afraid of speaking because they might offend me. Frankly, everybody tiptoeing around such a blatant fact is more offensive.

But it cannot constantly be my job to teach others what is and isn't socially acceptable. There are not enough words or time to explain what a person of color deals with on a daily basis. No matter how hard I try, I cannot make somebody else feel exactly what I've encountered.

All you have to do is listen without judgment or expectations because eventually, I will share. When I do, I can't mentally handle my feelings being invalidated by another person.

Long term, there is a clear goal we should be aiming to achieve. I need Butler to improve their diversity because I am damn tired of being the one among the many.

The only way to relieve this burden is increasing the numbers of students from different backgrounds. That doesn't mean just bring in more brown and black students, but those from all walks of life.

There are a lot of voices that need to be heard. All we have to do is listen.