Back in middle school I didn’t know what “Being Black” meant. I didn’t know someone could be an ethnicity. I didn’t know there was a such thing as standing up for who you were and what your ethnicity was. I guess in a way I didn’t really know who I was. It’s funny in middle and high school when you don’t know who you are or where you come from or what you do. It’s interesting that I had to learn that #blacklivesmatter from the television screen.
I always loved my blackness, and loved who I was. I never really knew how hard it was to be a black girl in college – being one of the only few as an English major trying to get an education. I never knew that privilege existed until I went to see my counselor. Who kept referring me to underprivileged
I always loved my blackness, and loved who I was. I never really knew how hard it was to be a black girl in college – being one of the only few as an English major trying to get an education. I never knew that privilege existed until I went to see my counselor. Who kept referring me to underprivileged