Surviving the Blue

By: Erika Sowah '28

Art by: Vanessa Wynn '28

I am under pressure. 

Not ‘under pressure’ figuratively, but deep underwater. I’ve always been able to breathe underwater, and I’ve experienced this pressure for long, but recently I realized just how suffocating it is. And I am always floating. There is no ground to stand on obviously, and everywhere I turn is blue. 

Up and down and all around me — blue. 

Everyone else seems to be fine living underwater, but they have natural gills so it's a bit easier for them. And of course there are those who’ve had trouble with the pressure and have asked for oxygen tanks. There’s not many of them, but every once in a while I swim by someone with this gorgeous gleaming silver machine on their backs. And, to be honest, I’m jealous. 

They received them with ease, but I can’t ask for my own oxygen tank because what will people say? 

Oxygen tanks are for people who really can’t take the pressure, and I think I’m doing fine — it's just a little stuffy. The water is disorienting, and sometimes it feels like the entire ocean is on my back alone. But really, I am fine. 

Not to mention my family — none of whom have gills either — is thriving underwater. And nearly every night, sitting around the dinner table surrounded by fish and water and blue and blue, they ramble on about those who can’t take the pressure of deep sea life. 

They say those who can’t take the pressure aren’t strong like I am. 

I dare not let them know I need an oxygen tank, so I turn to other alternatives. 

There is a breathing method I learned from a friend who said it helps with the pressure, but it hurts your lungs in the long run. I’ve been doing this breathing technique for a while now, but can’t let my family know because — what will people say? 

It's just not what we do.

And my family is one of the few families without gills surviving in the deep sea, so I must preserve the image of the strong and brave gill-less family. But it’s been a few months now and I realized I’m feeling this weird pain in my lungs and the pressure is getting more unbearable. And I know this isn’t like before. This is new. I begin brainstorming a more permanent solution on my own, one that requires no more oxygen tanks, no more pseudo-gills, and no more breathing techniques. 

But still, what will people say?

Studying at a predominantly white institution in America as a black woman can feel like surviving underwater with no gills, no oxygen tank, and high expectations. If you are a black woman reading this, you know that throughout high school, and now at Dartmouth College, you have been assigned the role of Trailblazer. You are now representing a whole community, and you cannot fade into the background because it is your duty to be a symbol of black female success. You must be the black woman behind the podium. Your job now, as you’ve been informed, is to show young black girls what can be achieved with hard work and dedication. And you must do this seamlessly. Depression, anxiety, OCD, and negative coping strategies are “not what we do.” And above all else, if you do need help make sure nobody knows, because what will people say? You are a strong black woman, and you must present as such. 

But really, you don’t need to. 

There is an unrealistic expectation placed on the shoulders of black women. That we are strong, so we must be stoic and suppress our emotions. 

As a black woman you have overcome others’ doubt, prejudice, and unsolicited opinions. You have held your tongue countless times, for fear of presenting as the loud black woman. Or worse — angry. You have been underwater for too long, and at this point it is imperative that you present purely as yourself. You have earned the right to be angry, to be sad, to be excited, and to ask for help. That is the standard you should set for young black girls. So if they find themselves underwater — surrounded by blue and blue and blue — they know they can ask for an oxygen tank. So they can look at you and learn how to be strong; to be successful; to be young, gifted, and black all while being authentically themselves. 

Yes, we are strong, lest we forget that we are human.