You want the perspective of someone with PTSD, then you better be prepared to do the work to make them comfortable enough to speak up in class and that means giving them a heads up when discussing potentially triggering topics.

You want the greatness that femme-identified folks have to offer, then you have to support them in their endeavors, take sexual assault and harassment seriously, and give them the healing spaces they rightly deserve.

You want poor students to focus in class and thrive in your elitist institution, then you better create an office that speaks to their needs and cost-free spaces where they can heal from the classist onslaught inherent in UChicago culture.

You want students struggling with mental illness to show up to class and elevate the conversation with their brilliance, then you need to make mental health services available and create spaces where these students do not feel ostracized or alienated for their struggles.

You want me to elevate mediocre conversations about race with my personal experience and critical lens, then you better do something about the students muttering about affirmative action every time I speak or the police who stop me on the street for not looking "UChicago enough".

You want black women and other women of color to do anything at all for your shitty institution, then you better just do better.

In other words, if you want a university with people who have experienced "real-life", then you need to create places where they can heal or eliminate the culture that harms them in the first place.

If on the other hand, you only want the same boring mayo perspective from non-diverse privileged (yeah, I said it) folks, then keep doing what you have been doing since your inception. Keep pandering to privileged if you want, but don't expect us to be quiet.

Being diverse isn't easy and our diversity aint free. Accessibility is key to a truly intellectually stimulating campus.

Get with the program or give us our money back.

#DontClaimMeUChicago

I have but one reply,
“Your’e telling the wrong person”.

Do not tell me,
your disdain for Black women.
Your hateful words will simply fall on ears,
That have become deaf to defeat.

Tell your mother,
Whose heart would snap,
To learn that this hateful world
Snatched your soul the minute you left,
the safe confines of her womb.

Tell your great grandmother,
Who wore out her shoe soles,
Marching, fighting and fleeing
so you could stand up straighter
in a world that wants you on your knees.

Tell your slave ancestor,
Who had to survive abuse,
In each and every facet of her life
So you could be alive today,
And even have the chance to spew such hate to me.

***This poem is unpolished/unfinished but its 2016 and my heart is breaking for all the black girls entering high school and college about to hear the "I'm black but I don't like black girls" nonsense that I have unfortunately heard for years***