I feel like I was lucky to be born in Black History Month. I mean, the culture, the new information that I discover, everything about Black History Month is my favorite. I also get to celebrate my mom (but when do I not celebrate her?) more than usual.

I've always looked up to my mother and it shows in how I act, speak, talk, walk, and write. She is a powerhouse and I know that she's tired, but I'd like to think of my brother and me being her motivation to keep pushing forward and not quitting. She's taught me more in 19 years than any textbook in school could have and she's taking on life, single and with her head held high because that's the type of woman she is. She's had to tackle raising my brother and me alone while helping us with homework, cheering us on at games and recitals, cooking our favorite meals, and putting us through college. She's superwoman in my eyes and I can only hope that I can be like this when I become a mother.

To all other African-American parents, you may not realize this, but you've raised some of the strongest children ever. You've given them reasons to stay in school and it's totally cliché, but you're the reason they want to buy their mother a new house or get their father a new truck. You're exposing them to the horrors of the world before the rest of society wakes up and sees the truth — it scares us at first, but you have to tell us otherwise we look stupid and you don't want your babies walking around with their heads down because they were unaware of the hatred that they had to endure because of a slight difference they have.

You made us understand that we should not be judged by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character and that we are not who society has stereotyped us to be. You've done an amazing job and I couldn't be any happier to be in such an amazing community.