In Georgia

by: Riya Bindlish

​

She took a long breath, and felt the simmering frustration and confusion rise up her throat and come thrashing out her mouth. Her eyes fierce behind the bright purple glasses perched on her nose, she said: “And what do you mean by that?”

 

Red, Aerosole wedges. A purse swinging by her side. A confident, full smile that was bigger than she was. And a whole lotta sass. Meet Nyla Crayton, a senior at Sequoyah High School in Canton, Georgia.

 

Click, click, click.

 

Her heels embodied her determination as she walked into the very first day of debate camp, yet there was slight hesitancy in her face. There was an odd balance about her. On one hand, she was very quiet, but she was most definitely not shy. She was amiable, yet she was most definitely one of the boldest people I knew.

 

We started talking. Of course, most of it was about debate. After about a week of debating, the camp announced we would be having a discussion about inclusivity in debate- that is, talk about the types of people or circumstances that are disadvantaged in the debate community.

 

A large part of the discussion had to do with minorities in debate, and how they are discriminated against, almost never in elimination rounds, and don’t always have the same prep resources as other debaters, not to mention the several judges who discount their words based on the color of their skin.

 

But in Nyla's eyes, this went much beyond debate. This was her life, and she had grown up with countless experiences where she had been put down or excluded, both physically and emotionally, based on the color of her skin.

 

Right off the bat, I knew being African American in the South wasn’t bound to be easy. However, I thought that in this day and age, there would’ve been more progression than she described.

 

It had started as early as kindergarten. One of her best friends blatantly told her that they couldn’t be friends anymore because her skin was so dark.

 

“Even then, I recognized that as racism, but I didn’t know what to do about it. There wasn’t much I could do about it.”

 

And it gradually crescendoed over the years. Comments that she had once ignored suddenly started to affect her. With every comment simultaneously came a heart wrench, along with a desire to fight back.
 

“You’re the whitest black person I know.”-  April Harrison remarked, thinking she was complimenting Nyla.

 

“I didn’t know black people could have different skin tones,” another said.

 

“We finally accept you as being white!” her freshman friend group exclaimed. As they looked in her brown eyes for happiness at the thought of this wondrous victory, they instead were met with flames of fury.

 

Tick, tick, tick...

 

“And what do you mean by that?” she questioned, after a pause.

 

The once supposedly shy girl that had once silently tolerated the disguised hatred pushed her glasses a little higher up her nose and stared her friend in the eye, waiting for an explanation. She didn’t get one.

 

Nyla continues to stand up for herself and call people out when needed. Yet, in the midst of Georgia, fighting for justice is like asking a blind man to describe color; almost impossible.

 

She walks into history, dreading another lesson on the Industrial Revolution, but what she receives shocks her. Inside, is a note discussing the activity for the day: a recreation of Slavery.

 

“For three periods”, she explains, “if you went into a green room you were safe, but if you went into certain rooms you got caught and were sent to the library. In the hallways, people talked and laughed. It was supposed to be the underground activity.”

 

How representative.

 

At the time, her parents furiously emailed the school, protesting the absurdity of such a misrepresentation of thousands of years of oppression. However, instead of cancelling the activity, Nyla was simply given the choice not to participate.

 

“My school isn’t very cognizant of the things it does,” she remarks.

 

And it wasn’t only race that seemed to be an issue. Rights of the LGBTQ community, discussions of abortion, gun laws, and other liberal issues were widely untalked about. The #Metoo movement? Ha! As if. Black Lives Matter movement? Widely frowned upon. Inclusivity discussions? Nyla chuckles at my naiveness.

 

“At least 95% school is Christian. At least 85% think you are going down below because you're gay. They ignore it, but they don’t really accept it.”

 

She believes that a lack of diversity keeps Sequoia High School in the dark of their wrongs: “Maybe there aren't enough people that are “different” for them to realize what they’re saying is not ok.”

 

So how does Nyla cope in such an environment?

 

“Debate.”

 

And yes, debate has limitations to how progressive it can be; from prep circles to expensive debate programs to discriminatory judges, the activity, like everything, does give the privileged a leg up.

 

Still, Nyla has had first-hand experiences with people changing their views on progressive ideas as they learn more about the world around them, something that always gives her a thrill. Mindsets growing, policies changing, Nyla believes debate has been the catalyst to pop the conservative bubble that has trapped so many.

 

Nyl continues, saying that being on the debate team also gives people exposure to her and her brother, Caleb.” That itself, opens people’s hearts, in her eyes. Her change starts small, but her identity as a black woman is something she embraces.

 

Sequoyah High School continues to live in their facade, but Nyla has broken into reality and herself. However, it is ultimately the outside that will dictate the opinions of Georgia.

 

After all,

 

‘Perception is the reality,” she states with acceptance.

 

Yet, with this acceptance, there is a glimmer of hope in those big brown eyes that will remain defiant regardless.