The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth - Alexandra Robbins [36]
In Joy’s Jamaican schools, students had targeted her because she wasn’t 100 percent black. They teased her about her mixed-race Ukrainian mother, whom they called brown, and they made fun of Joy’s skin, a medium-brown shade of chocolate. Once, Joy had asked a friend to ask another girl why she didn’t like her. The girl said that Joy’s nose was too straight and her eyes were too large, “white features” that reminded the girl of slave owners.
Students had found other reasons to pick on Joy in Jamaica. Because Joy’s mother was lighter skinned than most Jamaicans, people believed that Joy was wealthy. She was not. They teased her because in school she spoke standard British English rather than the more mainstream Jamaican dialect, even though she peppered her Facebook profile with local colloquialisms. They seemed puzzled by Joy because she was proper, yet spoke her mind loudly when provoked. They mocked her because she was an actress on a local academic television show. They were unimpressed that she had won a national award as one of the best theatrical actresses on the island. Eventually she had adjusted to her classmates’ mannerisms and learned “how things operated” socially. By the time she left Jamaica, she had finally figured out that environment. And now she had to master a new one.
Joy expected that making friends would take time, particularly because she didn’t believe in cliques and didn’t want to be a part of one. “People will always exclude me; it’s up to me to do things on my own terms and become the person I want to be,” she explained. “I don’t believe that everyone should like me. That’s nonrealistic. If you don’t wanna be my friend, I ain’t gonna cry over you, doll.” Instead she hoped to try to talk to individuals from various groups to find a friend.
The day after Natalie abandoned her, Joy decided to skip the cafeteria and eat in her next period class—biology—where she could spend time on quiet introspection.
In October, Joy’s parents and teachers switched her to AP English. In order to make the change, Joy had to switch PE classes, too, which weighed on her because another class shift meant being the new girl all over again. She was dismayed to learn that she was the only black person in a class of fifty students, most of them Mexican.
While she kept up a brave front at school, at home Joy had cried at least three times a day since she first landed at Citygrove. She cried in the shower, while walking to and from school, when she talked to her Jamaican friends, and before she went to sleep. She felt stuck. To her peers, she was neither white enough nor black enough. She didn’t even fit into her classes; she was too advanced for “regular” classes, but refused to succumb to the hyper-competitive undercurrent of her AP classes. She couldn’t see herself belonging to either group socially. She found the “regular” students to be unambitious and pessimistic about their future, and the AP kids to be “lifeless people who are willing to step on others to get ahead.”
Joy tried to forget her troubles as her new PE class ran the mile for the first time. She maintained a brisk pace despite the heat, ahead of all of her classmates. On her fourth of six laps, Joy was the only student still running. Behind her, classmates either walked or jogged, fanning themselves in the stagnant air.
“Jamaica!” a boy bellowed. “Usain Bolt! Asafa Powell!” Joy turned around—and suddenly felt a ripping sensation near her pelvis. I can’t stop now, she thought. At the next lap, she mentioned the pain to her teacher, who told her to walk. She slowed