Growing up in my small, rural town, I have always felt limited to the things I could do for the majority of my life. Growing up as the only African American in my entire school meant that I was always afraid to stand out and break the status quo. Although I was embraced by my peers, things such as my hair and skin tone were always harsh reminders that I was different, and I remember wishing every day that I could be the same as my friends. This dream of being the same lead to years of my true image withering and my culture being abandoned. Then one day, my view shifted. I was wearing my hair natural, in all its curly glory, absolutely horrified that I allowed my mother to convince me to leave the house in such a manner. My best friend made
