The University I attend has an annual tradition to celebrate the founder of our school. There's a special cake that is given out to everyone, the school's choirs perform, and there's a program that involves the founder's family as well. However, many of the students (particularly Black students on campus) dread this day and the celebrations that come with it. There is always a debate about the founder owning slaves, and opinions along the lines of "He was a good slave owner, so why are they complaining?" When Black students try to explain not wanting to participate in the events, there is a backlash that doesn't even have to do with the tradition.

Racial tensions on campus always have been high, and this day elevates those tensions as Black students suffer more racial slurs, threats, and disrespect. People become bolder— blatantly stating that black students on campus are racist, ignorant, and essentially not complacent enough to make the racial majority feel safe. They tell us to leave since we don't like it here, that we should be grateful for receiving scholarships, and that we should know our place on the campus. The best part about the situation is that students have taken to using anonymous social media (Yik Yak) to say these things, so even if we were to attempt a civil discussion, the mask of anonymity protects those who should be facing consequences.

I called my mother in a rage that I had not felt in a long time. There were many questions that I was asking her along with incoherent and incomplete statements.

"They don't want us here!"

"Why do they hate us?"

"Why does this keep happening?"

"They keep saying the same things!"

Her response was simple.

"They always say things about us. They always have and they always will."

As a Black woman at a predominately white institution, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I am done with the white majority yelling out false claims of reverse racism and hatred based on their skin tone. I resent the multiple statements of "If you hate it here, then leave. Why are you even complaining?" Then there is my all time favorite:

"It's racist of you to say that I don't know about racism because I am white."

I remember being six years old and my mother had to sit me down before we went to the store. She to make sure my hands were visible at all times. It became a very quick habit since she watched for it, reminding me whenever I forgot.

"Take your hands out of your pockets."

When I was younger, my mother also told me to never get into fights. Even if you are defending yourself, never hit back. While I was irritated about it back then, I understand why she would say such things.

"They'll blame you first."

Even when I switched schools, the same situations followed me. I would be attacked both verbally and physically for being black. Teachers would speak more slowly to me than other students. There were few times when teachers would even tell me that I shouldn't worry since "most students like [me] struggle in academics" so I shouldn't be too concerned if I struggled with a concept.

"You have to work twice as hard to be considered half as good."

"When you're around certain people, you have to speak a certain way."

"Don't respond to what they say."

"Don't complain—they'll use it against you."

My mother taught me all of these things and more. I used to ask why, but I never needed an actual answer.

It's because I'm black.

No matter where I go, I can't escape the fact that brown skin is presumed to be lesser. Even if you are white and got bullied by some people of color at school, your skin is not globally treated as being a mark of negativity. We as Black people are taught early on that we must always be prepared to defend ourselves because the rest of the world isn't here for us. That is why we are angry and hurt. That is why we fight for change.

If we don't want to celebrate a man who owned slaves, it is not, I repeat NOT a white person's place to tell us that we cannot be angry. We have suffered through too much and have survived for too long to be told by our oppressors to hold our tongues and behave. Now that we've started speaking up, we won't be silenced again.

Black is proud, black is beautiful, black is magical, and our lives matter.