Why, as an African, I took a Rhodes scholarship

Just ask Myron Rolle what it’s like to have ESPN follow you around for one day, asking you if accepting the scholarship spelt the end of your career as a professional American football player. Or another scholar what it’s like to run a charity based in Sri Lanka, primarily funded in the US, while studying full time in Oxford. Or another, who’s looking into developing technology that would revolutionise the way disabled people in India are able to access information, what it’s like to wonder if the technology will translate in India. Or ask yours truly, the first woman in her family to graduate from university and start a master’s degree what it’s like to choose between doing a DPhil and starting your own organisation or finally getting a real job.

Every decision you make suddenly takes on a weight that you had previously never ever had to consider. For me, being a Rhodes scholar is not a mark of accomplishment. It’s a step towards something bigger, a platform from which I can launch into bigger and better things in the future. It’s a comma, not a full-stop. But it’s also a responsibility. A recognition that so much has been given to me and so much more will be expected of me.

One of the best answers to the original question was given by one of the wonderful students that I met when I arrived. When asked why she accepted the scholarship, she said: “Cecil Rhodes had no intention for us as black women to ever see his money. I can’t think of a better way of saying fuck you than taking it.”

This article was reprinted with permission.

(Image Credit: 1913 Religious Map of Africa from University of Texas)

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