My African-American Culture

It took sixteen years for me to become racially aware. While my mom did her best to make sure I was well-versed in both social justice issues and my African-American heritage, I didn't completely acknowledge, accept, or understand cultural differences—black culture in particular. I lived the majority of my life in Moreno Valley, a city primarily composed of minorities, never having been exposed to white privilege or minority disadvantage. Moreover, a good portion of the kids I've met are, what we'd call in a casual setting, "ghetto" because they were louder and less-conventional in the way they dressed and spoke. I refused to conform to that stereotype. Instead I tried doing the opposite. I spoke well and I dressed well-- so well that I began …show more content…
The Speakers of Hope was apart of her organization called The Enrichment Project. The mission of The Speakers of Hope is to provide the youth with opportunities to speak up on social issues with each other and eventually performing spoken word on those topics. We wrote spoken word on varying topics, but one topic that kept coming up was race. I remember one story in particular. My friend told us about a time he was walking home from his evening classes at the community college. As he was walking alone down an unlit street, he heard sirens behind him. He said he was paralyzed by fear. He had done nothing wrong, but he was afraid of being stopped by the police because the color of his skin. I know I would’ve felt the same way. He was just like me-- driven, educated, and kind-- but he was afraid of being arrested without cause. At the end of the story, he revealed that he was never confronted by the police, but as I reflected back on the story, I realized that it was problem for him to feel that way. I connected his experience to other stories I heard. I started researching cases and heard about the #blacklivesmatter