"No! You have to be kidding, are you serious– you're actually... black?"

Yes. I'm African-American.

Why is it when I tell you this, all I notice across your face is astonishment and possibly even a pinch of devastation as if you wanted to hear something else? You ask me multiple times as if I'm telling you a lie and to be quite honest with you– it's aggravating and something I take into an offense.

I am black. Suprise!

And when I hear these blatant ignorant comments, all I am realizing is your ignorance.

But why is it actually such a surprise to you that I'm African-American?

Oh, I know.

I don't depict you as the quote-on-quote "regular black person" you see published all over media sites. My curls aren't kinky or in the texture as you would expect and my skin isn't dark. I don't have the characteristics or, excuse me, "act out" as you expect me to. You say it yourself, right after I confront you with what I consider to be beautiful.

So automatically to you, I'm perceived as anything other than what I am.

How about this, stop assuming.

Becuase you know, black people are ignorant, disgusting, irresponsible and selfish– right?

You hate us, don't you? Your plan is to terminate our culture. You mock our culture and wear it as a costume, take our styles and flip them as your own, stamp your name on it and get the credit. I get it. I swear I do.

The problem is that you aren't willing to open up your mind and learn. You are caught up in the same mindset that you believe is

the way and the only way, that if it's not something that you prefer– it's automatically wrong and a waste of time. My melanin doesn't dismiss the fact that I am no less of a person than you. I, excuse me, we, have goals and dreams just as the next minority group, and we should never hear any sort of disrespect affiliating with our skin color along the way. We don't owe any sort of explanation to you. We are who we are and we are beautiful.

We are dripping melanin and honey, we are black with no apology.