When I was 5, I heard the N word for the first time. I asked my mom what it meant and she told me to never say that again because it was a bad word.

When I was 8, I was in the third grade and we learned about all the Native American tribes in America and about Jamestown and Pocahontas. I was excited because Pocahontas was my favorite Disney movie and it was based on somewhere that was a few hours from my house.

When I was 10, we took a field trip to Jamestown. I was excited until we got there. Nothing about it was magical, there weren't any talking willow trees, there was nothing but dirt and replicas of Native American housing. I asked if the Native Americans still lived outside the settlements just like we had learned, and the tour guide laughed at me and told me no.

At 11, I learned about slavery and the Civil Rights Movement all in the same year. I felt overwhelmingly different from my peers in such a way I couldn't explain. I couldn't decide if I was proud to be black because of all we had overcome or angry that my grandma had to go to a segregated school, when I got to go to school with all my friends who happened to be white.

At 13, the first African American president, Barack Obama was elected.

At 16, I took AP United States history and we learned a much more in depth version of slavery and the Civil Rights Movement. I learned about how African Americans were placed at a numerical value and had little to no worth. I learned how they fought for rights that I was born with and I was horrified that people really experienced this type of treatment.

At 18, I took a Civil Rights class my first semester of college. I spent an entire semester reading exempts of people's experiences of segregation and discrimination. I learned how people were brutally beat, hung and the government did nothing about it besides advocate for equality. Ironically, I was the only black kid in the class which made me feel all the more awkward.

At 20, I've seen the rise of the #blacklivesmatter movement due to the horrible tragedies that have happened (Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Alton Sterling, and the many other countless black lives lost unjustly), I've seen Donald Trump say that he wants to build a wall between the United States and Mexico.

As I sit back and watch all these horrific events, I wonder if anything has changed. Essentially, if you're not a white male, you face some sort of discrimination.

I've always been a "good kid." I'm involved at school and I love working with children. I've always been focused and driven and have had college plans since I was 10. I've never been pulled over and I've never been in any trouble with the law. I don't see myself as suspicious in any way, shape or form but with recent events, I feel as if there is a giant bullseye on my back that draws attention to me. With recent events, I feel overwhelmingly different and struggle to feel comfortable going out.

It's an American horror story to be black in America. You grow up knowing that you're different, you go to school to learn more about why you're different and go out in public to feel different because of people's ignorance. You're enraged that even after a 100-plus years after the abolishment of slavery, that you are targeted and discriminated against. You're confused as to why you even have to fight for basic rights. You're terrified to get involved with police because of profiling and the amount of police brutality that's going on. You're saddened to see the amount of lives taken because of pure ignorance.

Change isn't immediate. Rather, it's slow, progressive, and tiresome. Maybe things won't be great anytime soon and maybe they never will be. What we can do during this continually hard time is make our lives matter. Enjoy our families while we can, invest in our hobbies and love more than we hate.