I am black. 

 

Now we could get into the semantics of how black, black from where, etc.. but I will tell you now that my parents are Nigerian and I identify as Nigerian American.  I have grown up in America my entire life, so I have grown under the assumption of being seen as black. No nuisance – no ethnicity – just black.

 

Now that I have stated the obvious – I want to briefly talk about what that means in terms of my educational experiences.  Most of my educational experiences have been coupled with fear.  In fact, I would say that fear has been an explicit companion of my experiences.  Fear to fail - obviously like any of my type A brethren in the room -  but more a fear to not be great – not be excellent.  Because in my mind that meant that my fellow classmates who were not black would always doubt whether I truly belonged.  That the color of my skin warranted a question mark above my face, as there were “special conditions” for which I was brought into the school system.  As if I was bussed into this Ivory Tower and every ivory tower I have existed in before this. 

 

And yes you are right.  That that is fucked up.  To think that many of you assume that I do not belong here.  But what I have seen in this life – from affirmative action bake sales and dubious questions about my schooling – have had me think otherwise for quite some time. Present day news feeds of violence against African Americans – black people in this country -  I am afraid only confirm that suspicion. 

 

The fact that I had worked to build out a film studio in Lagos, Nigeria – a place most natives of the city dare not revisit if given the opportunity to leave would not matter.  The fact that I had a flourishing career in the media and entertainment business  - a business that recycles through the young and talented in this country even before they have had a real start would be insignificant.  The fact that I have film credits under Steven Spielberg and Spike Lee would mean nothing.  The fact that I have been a leader – black or otherwise – at both Columbia College – the other school in our beloved NYC and at my elite boarding school would be passing notes.  

 

So ten years after undergrad, when I came back to school, the transition back into class was difficult and I immediately felt like a fraud.  The fear that had accompanied me throughout my educational experiences had taken over.  It reared its ugly head screaming that I was not good enough. And I am ashamed to say that I relented to that fear. 

 

Until one day, my study group member, Ju Tan spoke to me and said “Melissa. You are really intelligent, but sometimes I feel that you aren’t delivering on your promises to be a leader and add value.  You have great ideas and great insight, but you need to follow through on them.“ 

 

I know the story seems an odd one to bring up, as it seemingly affirms my fears but it was just the opposite.  You see– Ju is someone who is about action – about what you do.  He could literally give two shits if you are well liked, black, brown, purple or the Queen of England.  As long as your efforts add value, he is happy.  And to him, I wasn’t living up to my potential, not because I couldn’t or wasn’t’ capable of doing so, but because I didn’t want to do so.  I realized right then that I had been letting fear cripple me from taking real action and following through on my ideas.  I had begun to believe that maybe I wasn’t good enough and that in turn affected my work. 

 

That conversation woke me up out of a haze and opened me up to my classmates in a way that I truly haven’t been before.   I figured if Ju could see me, for the good and the bad, who else could here?  And what I have learned to love about Stern is that everyone can. 

 

Now please – do not misunderstand me.  Stern is not a utopia. Not everyone is going to understand, appreciate or even respect the struggles of their classmates, whether those struggles be based on gender, race, class, sexuality, religion or international status.  But people will expect you to bring your best here because that is what they bring – no matter the color, gender or creed.  And for that reason, Stern has become a safe place for me.  Stern is a place where I challenge myself and reach beyond my potential, evermore open to ask for help knowing that my fellow students and professors will more often than not offer me that helping hand.   It is a place where I am able to be truly vulnerable, in my journey of becoming a global leader in the entertainment and media industry. 

 

So my ask from you - because I do have an ask - is that you not mess that up. Give your best, demand the best – but leave it there.  Because that is what makes Stern – and Sternies – great.

 

Thank you so much for your time.