After spending hours on roommate search and getting sucked into the seemingly endless black hole of Facebook stalking, I decided I was going to let the universe pick my roommate. I had never picked a roommate using this method, so I was both terrified and excited by this game of Russian roulette.
Going up to my new home on the 13th floor was nerve wracking. Surely if this person was a psychopath, I could switch rooms, right?
No, I would soon find out I could not.
My roommate was sleeping near the window and the way the room was set up made me feel like I was in a cage. She said, “Hi,” in an African accent and went back to sleep. I didn’t know if I should turn the lights on or what, but all I knew was we had already gotten off to the wrong start.
I went down to make another round of bringing stuff up and she was up. She introduced herself and told me she is from Nigeria. It was a very short conversation and I felt like I could already see how our relationship would be: We would just coexist in the same place. I asked if we could share the window somehow because I like light and she flat out said "no."
She said she had asthma.
I said I had anxiety.
I had learned I had another stubborn person on my hands. I went to try and change rooms and they said we were stuck with each other at least for three more weeks.
I felt weird talking to her about compromising because I knew there was a language barrier and I did not want to say the wrong thing and offend her. However, that was just an excuse, and if we were going to be living together, I was going to have to learn how to talk to her about things.
I told her we were stuck together and have to figure it out. She said nothing. I told her I was going to try moving the room around and she helped me. We both had windows and the room finally felt spacious. She smiled and told me she loved it. She then started talking to me about where she was from and her family. I told her about my life and we talked for at least an hour.
Each day we got closer and closer. It started out with sticky note messages and eventually we were bringing each other food and sharing pictures of beautiful guys on Instagram. Every morning now consists of a “good morning” and rant about how crazy our day will be.
Not all of our conversations are about men and stress. A lot of them are about social issues, the similarities and differences of our cultures. The first story she told me was about her experience in a gender and sexuality class. It was her first year at DePaul and they were discussing homosexuality. She told me being gay was a crime in her country, so she had not seen or heard of many gay people before.
This was so strange for me, especially since my dad is gay. Gay people were not wrong to her, just unfamiliar. She wanted to know more about sexuality, hence why she was in the class. In a group discussion, she shared this with the class and a student went off on her, calling her a homophobe and telling her to go back to her country. I told her I wish I was in her class and could go off on that guy for being insensitive and ignorant. It was so fascinating for me to see how extremely different our worlds were and I was happy I was able to see some of hers.
One Friday morning, we went to Target to get cleaning supplies and Halloween goodies. We walked by a store on State St. that we both loved and decided we would go in, despite our bank accounts full of a whole $10. She found a dress and told me she missed dressing up for Nigerian weddings. She explained to me how they have these huge parties in the bride’s house and there is food and dancing. She showed me what people would wear to weddings on Instagram.
They were extravagant. Everyone dresses up in these rich gowns drenched in rainbow colors. She showed me the traditional headpieces men and women wear. After the house ceremony, the couple is legally married, but some couples have a “white wedding” after in the church. The "white wedding" is what many people in the U.S. traditionally think of when they think of a marriage ceremony. I told her I must attend a wedding with her, if there is ever one in Chicago.
Each day I learn something new from her and each day my world becomes bigger. I think back on the moment I met her and how poorly I predicted our relationship would be. I am so happy that I got fed up searching for a roommate because the universe picked better than I could have ever imagined.
