Being a black female, growing up in America, (specifically the south) I've been exposed to all sorts of racists things you wouldn't expect an 18 year old to be exposed to.
I remember going to my granny's house when I was little and hearing her tell the same stories over and over again of the racism that she encountered growing up in Alabama. Of course at the time I couldn't understand two things. One, why she always told those stories over and over again. And two, why it still bothered her so much when it happened such a long time ago.
Now looking back on those stories that my granny would tell, I realized when my granny looked back on her teenage and young adult years, she didn't see herself go-go dancing in night clubs and fangirling to The Beatles like how I see the 60's represented in movies and tv shows. For my granny she remembered the hate and fear that white people worked so hard to instill into blacks.
She remembered going to run down, dirty, segregated places only for blacks. She remembered feeling a slither of hope living in the same town as Dr. King, and feeling that hope snatched away yet again when he was murdered (which the United States Government was found guilty of in 1999 in case you didn't care to find out). That's what she remembers.
Now I look at my own life. In my short 18 years of living, I can say that the way racism impacts my life day to day will leave an impression on my teenage and young adult years that just might have me telling the same stories over and over to my grandchildren.
It was at the age of 12 that I first became obsessed with researching and finding out the truth about the world for myself. My older sister Faith, was always researching the music industry and it struck a desire in me to start researching all the questions I'd ask adults and get no clear answer. My love for research the past 6ish years is what has kept me aware of the life I live and how it all connects to systems of the world, American history,( and I'm referring to all of America's history. Not just the parts we're taught in school that makes it seems as though black people only existed during slavery, disappeared, and then came back for the Civil Rights Movement) and prophecy in the Bible.
Everything that I'd become interested in and researched had all connected and very much relied on each other. At one point, I was learning more beneficial things on my own then I was at school. But as more things started to connect I realized at a young age, that my life as a black female growing up in America, and even more so the south, wouldn't necessarily be easy. I knew that sometimes people would automatically see me as unqualified because they were too small minded to see beyond skin color. I knew that certain friends of mine wouldn't always be able to understand why I feel the way I do or why my parents were so overprotective over their little girl.
Even with knowing all of this to this day, I'm still very much hopeful. When I turn on the news and see white terrorists chanting to take back what belongs to them, (don't get me started on how problematic this is) or when I see another brother fallen victim to police brutality, or when panic starts to creep in when my parents take too long to come home, for some glorious reason I still have hope.
As bad as I wish I could wipe the racist experiences from my grandparents, parents, siblings, friends, and even my own eyes, part of me is glad that I can't. Those experiences is what has made the black community so strong. Those memories and stories is what drives up and coming generations to carry on the legacy their ancestors started. Those moments in my life is what opened my eyes and cultivated my skill of researching, writing, and debating. I'm hopeful because I know God is for me, so I know there's no racist or any other ignorant person that can be against me.
