Growing up, my friends and I would play pretend. Our favorite show to play pretend with would always be Teen Titans. One person would be Robin, another would be Starfire, and I would always be Cyborg. I do not like Cyborg. I repeat, I do not like Cyborg. I do not like his character. I do not like his superpowers. I do not like his color scheme. I do not like his personality. I do not like him. I do not like Cyborg. I would frequently tell my “friends” this, but to no avail. I never got it - why did I have to be Cyborg? I was stuck with Cyborg. My friends would switch roles all the time. “Okay, now you be Raven and I’ll be Starfire,” or “You got your turn to be Robin, now it’s my turn!” I never got to switch. My young mind did not understand at the time, like young minds should not have to. One day, I was just fed up with it. I did not want to be Cyborg, I wanted to be Robin! So I said, “My turn to be Robin!” Maybe if I said it enthusiastically than they couldn’t tell me no. They all looked at me with a confused expression. Like I had just introduced them to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. They in turn said, “But you’re Cyborg.” I would then tell them that I no longer wanted to be Cyborg and I wanted to be Robin this time. Then Chad, who was playing Robin, looked straight at me and said “You have to be Cyborg because you’re black.” What? I HAVE to be Cyborg? The confused faced that I had then made its way down to me. “Who cares,” I would then try to argue. They would then tell me that it wouldn’t make any sense for me to play Robin because I “look just like Cyborg,” plus none of them were black so they couldn’t play Cyborg. I would argue some more, but it was pointless. They then said I could be Beast Boy if I wanted to, but I did not want to be Beast Boy, I wanted to be Robin. Now this is where it started to hurt. They said that I could be Beast boy because he was green and sometimes he turns into a monkey.

That was just one of many instances where I, and the people around me, restricted me to stereotype because of the color of my skin. You see, in the media, black people were only shown in a couple of options. My choices were Cyborg, Raven from “That’s So Raven,” someone of “The Proud Family,” or let me think, nope that’s all I can think of. I guess I could be someone off the movies and shows that my parents would watch. I could be the sassy black woman or maybe even the drug dealer. If I was watching the news, I could be the guy that just went to prison for theft or gang violence. That was my future. Those were the options that I had laid out for me. I could be a teacher, but no, there were no teachers of color at my school. I guess I could be a firefighter. Who was I kidding? I’ve never seen a black firefighter. I guess I could be a father who left, yeah I could be that. There were a lot of black males who left their families on TV. I’ll be a dead-beat dad. I was, again, stuck. Stuck to a couple of options for life.

This not only made me think of black people as less, but white people as better. They had unlimited options. They could do whatever they wanted. They could be doctors, lawyers, teachers, superheroes, firefighters, students, moms (in a happy marriage of course), dads (that stayed), funny sitcom characters, or politicians. They could not only be Robin, but they could also be Batman for God’s sake! They could be the whole damned Justice League! There was no room for me on the Justice League though, no black people. I then grew up and realized that I could be whatever I wanted, but not every black child does. What’s that saying? “Monkey see, monkey do.” Something my childhood friend would have been okay with because black people CAN be monkeys. We ask ourselves, “Why are black people always the thugs,” or “why is it always the black guy that walks out?” We ask ourselves those questions because that is what he learns to do with his life. Those are his options.

While media is starting to change, colorism is peeking its face into the spotlight. When black people are casted, the lighter skinned one’s are the ones that are front and center. The fight for equity in the media is a long a tiring one, but will still be fought. Because, one day, I’ll have kids of my own, and their options will be limitless.