It's May 6 and it's the last week of my first year of college. 

Before I got up to write this article I was laying in the middle of my dorm room floor, staring at the ceiling.

I am currently going through another of what I like to call "existential crises," because I'm a dramatic millennial and what else do you call questioning every choice you have ever made and will make for the rest of your life?

And I found myself focusing on one thing; my inadequacy.

I am a Black Female, on a predominantly white campus, attending a predominantly white and wealthy institution. Constantly this year, I have encountered so many different scenarios that have had one underlying theme: You don't belong here.

I don't expect many people to understand what that feels like, though most can argue they've felt that feeling before. But there's something about sitting in a classroom as the only person of color, listening to your classmates discuss why the language of your ancestors isn't real, or why your race as a whole is insensitive and should just "grow up."

You know it's real, but to hear it firsthand? I felt like a wounded animal, backed into a corner. Simply wanting to lash out of anger and fear, and then I realized what THAT would implicate and dived headfirst into the wormhole.

I walked out of the class crying. And three weeks later here I am, unable to shake the feeling.

It was the straw that in essence broke my psyche's back.

I am tired of feeling like less than a human for so many reasons when I'm expected to operate like a superhuman because of those very same reasons. I realized that I was so tired because I constantly walk around and operate on the defensive.

I don't feel safe, in my person, in my words, or in my skin. I question my every move, and every reaction because I feel that here I am just a number. And numbers can easily be manipulated and deleted.

"You ain't shit and never will be."

"There is no reason for you to be angry about any of what I said. I didn't say anything about you that wasn't true."

"Emotion shouldn't be part of this discussion, you just aren't mature enough to handle it. None of you are."

"Wow it's like you're a walking stereotype, you're just embarrassing yourself."

Today I am fighting back against the part of myself that won't shake these feelings of inadequacy, internalizing these discourses, and that keeps me up at night. My status as a black female scholar does not in any way mean that I do not deserve to be here.

All of the experiences that I find myself reliving and mulling over when I lay down at night, offer me the chance to change and expand in so many ways that my peers will never be able to achieve. Because of what I have been through and who I am, I am totally OK with going down a career path that isn't just about money to me, but is rather what I am passionate about. I wake up each morning appreciative of so many different things that I watch so many people around me take for granted. I approach each day with mindful and meaningful goals because I am able to look beyond just myself. I take on each day with my family and future family in mind, knowing that I have to work harder than the day before because I am not as privileged as most others and that's OK.

My lack of monetary wealth does not mean I am not wealthy,

and my quick temper does not make me a stereotype.

My quick temper reminds me, even though I'm a little more fight than I am flight, that I am confident enough in myself and my intentions to defend them with every ounce of my being.

My temper makes me one of the few people you have ever been around who will call you out on your close-mindedness before you have a chance to drive another of your classmate out of class crying.

Before you have the chance to preach to someone else about why they don't bELONg here.

I will no longer stand to be invalidated by anyone, of color or not, who thinks I am subhuman because of the color of my skin and my lack of affluent status.

Without that monetary backing, I am still me. And I am so proud to be able to say that.

For most of you, that isn't the case. And may God have mercy on your delusional souls.

I am here, pursuing post-secondary education without a financial worry because of the person that I am and always have been due to my struggles. I go to sleep at night knowing that I've worked harder than most people every will in and out of school. For my future, for my family, and for myself.

I can file my own taxes, I can cook a meal, I can clean a bathroom, I have an extensive resume and a personality that is all my own. So many people around cannot say that, and can only bear witness.

My experiences, my skin and my struggles make me irreplaceable, unable to be duplicated, unable to be replicated, and a person most of all.

My emotions do not make me ignorant, a stereotype, or subhuman.

I just want to tell any and everyone else who might be feeling the same way that I'm feeling, that I'm proud of you.

Where ever life takes you, let no one invalidate who you are, who you will become, and everything you have done to be where you are today.

The color of your skin, your dynamic identifications and methods of self-expression, your struggles and triumphs. Be proud. There are so many people in this world who will come at you in an effort to pick apart everything about you, simply to try and convince themselves that you aren't worthy of the pride that you carry yourself with. We live to fight another day because we work hard and always have. No amount of money in the world can buy personality, experience, empathy, social intelligence and competence.

Continue to take this world by storm, be mindful of your surroundings, relationships and intentions. Learn from your mistakes, take risks and don't ever ever, EVER give up.