Being black is moving to a new school with no black kids.
Being black is marveling over all of your white barbies.
It's being asked why your hair was f***ing ugly.
It's being asked "do you braid your box braids" every single night.
It's being called a monkey.
It's being called thug, even before you knew what the word meant.
It's all of your friends laughing as you sit in between them because you are a reverse Oreo.
It's all of your family asking you why you don't have any black friends.
It's having night terrors of being called the word with a strong er at the end.
It's having chest pain in the hospital, and the doctors tell you you're lying.
It's seeing your dad being taken into a police car for speeding on the highway, and you have to sit in the car alone.
It's seeing all of your friend's beautiful straight hair.
It's staring at yourself in the mirror, as you repeatedly drag a flat iron down your hair, watching your curls disappear.
It's staring at a police car and praying that no one comes out of it.
It's your dad sitting you in his room, telling you and your sister that you do NOT speak to a police officer until there is a lawyer.
It's your dad forcing you to watch Alton Sterling's death because someday that could happen to him.
It's stressing out when you see Trump supporters.
It's stressing out when you blue lights behind you because it could be the last thing you see.
It's hating your natural hair and hiding it every time you had to wear it out.
It's hating the way you look.
It's sitting in a bathtub full of water, warm tears streaming down your face as you scrub a loofa as hard as you can against your skin.
It's sitting in the bathtub, trying to rid yourself of the color of your skin, because maybe then you'd feel safe and beautiful.
It's wondering if you could be pretty.
It's wondering why you were ever put on this earth.
It's wondering, why?
It's wondering why you couldn't just be normal.
It's wondering why the world wanted you dead.
It's wondering, why?
It's wondering what life would be like if the world didn't hate you.
It's wondering if you would EVER be loved.
It's wondering, why.
THAT is what being black is.
Going to the cinema alone is good for your mental health, says science
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