When I was around five or six years old, my sister and I were playing with Barbie dolls in my grandmother’s house. All of the dolls had pale white skin except for one that was black, which, at the time, did not matter to my sister or me. But at some point during our time, one of us mentioned the word “black” in reference to the doll. My mother, who was sitting in the dining room, maybe fifteen feet away, turned back, appalled, and told us to never say that. Neither of us really understood what she meant. To us, the word black was just a color, nothing more, so the fact that she believed the word held some kind of offense was confusing. It was shortly after that that I began to recognize the various racial tensions I experienced on a daily
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I want to help in any way I can, whether it is through hands-on action, public policy, or education. My mother seems to understand the direction in which I want to go and constantly encourages me to pursue it, despite her long developed “color-blindness.” Although, when I mentioned to her some of the discussions there have been in my classes on racism, she seemed a bit worried that becoming involved in something so controversial might be dangerous. The first thing my parents said to me when I was moving into my dorm was: “Don’t go to any of those protests and get away fast if a crowd starts forming because you could get hurt.” To be fair, this is entirely possible. But change often requires risk and I am willing to do whatever it …show more content…
Some days I can even hear my dad’s distasteful comments in the back of my mind when I approach a person of color, challenging me to be better than my ancestors before me by trying as hard as I possibly can to fight oppression and inequality. It is because of my growing knowledge of the hardships Blacks must face that I have come to be the person I am today. Much like my journey with the prejudice of the Catholic church, I will not continue to sit quietly while the world around me chooses to ignore, even promote, the obvious mistreatment of Black Americans. The Black experience is in every way a definitive part of the American culture, whether people choose to acknowledge it or
I want to help in any way I can, whether it is through hands-on action, public policy, or education. My mother seems to understand the direction in which I want to go and constantly encourages me to pursue it, despite her long developed “color-blindness.” Although, when I mentioned to her some of the discussions there have been in my classes on racism, she seemed a bit worried that becoming involved in something so controversial might be dangerous. The first thing my parents said to me when I was moving into my dorm was: “Don’t go to any of those protests and get away fast if a crowd starts forming because you could get hurt.” To be fair, this is entirely possible. But change often requires risk and I am willing to do whatever it …show more content…
Some days I can even hear my dad’s distasteful comments in the back of my mind when I approach a person of color, challenging me to be better than my ancestors before me by trying as hard as I possibly can to fight oppression and inequality. It is because of my growing knowledge of the hardships Blacks must face that I have come to be the person I am today. Much like my journey with the prejudice of the Catholic church, I will not continue to sit quietly while the world around me chooses to ignore, even promote, the obvious mistreatment of Black Americans. The Black experience is in every way a definitive part of the American culture, whether people choose to acknowledge it or