When people ask how you found out about your PWI, don’t mention that you too, have Google.

On multiple occasions, you will be asked to “share” about how you got into your predominantly white institution - how you found out about it and how you arrived there all the way from your presumably far off village in your home country. This question is coded language. Used to communicate multiple sentiments, ranging from “this place was not built for you but good luck I guess,” all the way to “wait how come you have access to same information we do?” I know that on occasions that lead you to the realization I just described above, you could be tempted to clarify that just like everyone else, you used the internet. Don’t clarify. Remember that we don't have internet in Africa. Rather, tell a story that includes the white savior archetype in your life. That is, talk about how you had previously never heard of the school, but later met someone (white) who connected you to information and opportunity. The point is not so much about the information as it is about the importance of ensuring that your context of origin continues to be perceived as necessarily incapable of being an equally legitimate information hub. If you communicate that you found about your predominantly white institution through regular access to information, you run the risk damaging the narrative of Africa as a distant and dusty village with nothing but endless skies, epidemics and vast Savannahs. For the sanctity of this narrative, you have to pretend that information about your predominantly white institution came to you not out of your own volition, but out of the goodness of somebody else. This question becomes even more frequent when you are engaged in your school community. The question will now be accompanied by commentary about how well you are doing socially, as if you, unlike others, are an irrefutably separate component from the institution that needs to be integrated. In these situations, choose the comfort birthed by the pretense of African arrogance. Instead of trying to convince every enquirer that you had access to the internet just like them, tell them about all the help you received. If you’re feeling adventurous, tell them that you walked 437 miles to the village computer once every week to read about colleges and, subsequently, to work on your application.