"We are tired.
Sincerely, a tired woman."
Those are the only words I said. Those are the words that made me a target for my first racist experience. Those are the words that made a man tell me,
"You wouldn't be so tired if you drank some bleach. The world would be a much better place."
I grew up in a pretty diverse situation. I never experienced any direct racism, but I've seen it happen to people I know. The problem is how I came to the conclusion that he was racist, his posts prior are nothing but discriminatory against people of color — especially black people. I was hurt. I was hurt by the fact that this man, a white man, hates my entire race. He chose me to target. He chose my post.
I sat in class and cried. I chose to respond instead of react. Before I did anything else, I prayed for this man; I prayed that God would show me my faults, if what I said was wrong. But more importantly, I prayed for his heart. A part of me steps back and takes another look at this situation...at all situations.
This man has never had to experience this.
They have never had to experience this.
He's never had a point in his life where he had a system against him.
They've never had a point in their lives where they had a system against them.
This man is ignorant.
They are ignorant.
He does not understand how to feel because he hasn't felt.
They do not understand how to feel because they've never felt it.
He never will.
They never will.
So why rebuke someone else for the color of their skin? Why try and spew hate into someone's life because of your lack of understanding? I have so many questions that I know will never be answered, and that's okay.
With that being said, racism is alive and well. I don't want anyone else to tell me that it isn't. I don't want anyone to tell me to forget about my ancestors past, but tell me "never forget" yours. This is what happens when we do. If we learn and accept the fact that my history IS history, maybe this wouldn't be as prevalent in society. Maybe this man wouldn't have told me to die. Maybe she would still be alive outside of a jail cell. Maybe their hands wouldn't have to go up. Maybe both presidential candidates would cherish people that look like me, people with my skin color. Maybe they would understand I'm educated. Maybe they wouldn't put me in a box. Maybe I wouldn't be "cool for a black". Maybe I wouldn't be "pretty for a black girl".
We are tired.
Sincerely, a tired woman.
