There is an issue in this country. An issue that is being silenced and miscommunicated every day by the media and government and law enforcement. In light of the recent murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile by police, I have decided it's time I use my chosen platform to speak about my feelings and interpretation of what has been going on in this country.

I, as a young black woman, am frustrated. I am disheartened, and I am terrified. The way this country has devalued and criminalized black men, and the black community in general, has left me severely disappointed. This is not the country I was raised to believe in. This is not the country I want to believe in.

When I was younger, the color of my skin wasn't something I gave much thought to. I knew I was black and that was that, I didn't see it as anything more than that. As I grew older I started learning about the history of my people, the struggle, the heartache, and most importantly, the hope. My parents and teachers taught me about the civil rights movement and the fearlessness with which my ancestors fought to become more than what society had reduced them to.

In my house, we had a picture hanging of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and below his image was his "I Have a Dream" speech. My father used to make me read it every night until I memorized it. When I asked why I had to read it, he told me that I needed to understand where I came from and where I'm going. I wouldn't come to understand this for a few more years.

I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, went to a predominantly white school, and was fortunate enough to have found a diverse group of friends. I listened to "white" music, watched TV shows and movies with mostly white casts, and was often called an "Oreo" or a "white" black girl. I am brown-skinned with soft, shoulder length hair; I often heard "you're pretty for a black girl," and what are you mixed with?" As if my beauty wasn't valid without some kind of non-black blood running through my veins.

When I was younger, these things didn't really bother me because I didn't truly understand their implications. Now that I am older and have a better understanding of who I am and what I stand for, these comments make me angry.

When it was time for me to go to college, my family assumed that I would apply to HBCUs and ultimately attend one. I told them that I wanted diversity, so I didn't apply to any and went to another predominantly white school in another predominantly white neighborhood where my black friends were called "nigger" on the street by someone driving by in a pickup truck. I was shocked.

I made good friends but a part of me felt displaced, as if I didn't belong there and didn't fit in. I began to regret not choosing an HBCU and felt that I had deprived myself of getting more acquainted with my own culture. I was pretty blind to politics and racial issues, then Trayvon Martin happened. So, I did some reading.

I was angry that a young black kid, not much younger than myself, could be killed in cold blood for no reason and the killer be let off. At first I didn't understand how it was about race. But then Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray, Sandra Bland, and so many others were also killed. This time at the hands of police. So many people who didn't receive justice, people who's lives were reduced to hashtags because of cops who failed to do their job correctly.

I began to lose my faith in the justice system of this country, but then I realized there is no justice. There is no justice for black victims in a system that wasn't created to protect them in the first place. How many more of us have to die before society says "that's enough"? How do we, as a community, find success and justice in a country that doesn't value us unless we play ball or rap? How do we rise above our oppression in a society that doesn't see that there's a problem? Why are hundreds of unarmed black men, women, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters dying at the hands of people who are supposed to protect us? And most importantly, why does the media alter and cover up the truth?

I have always wanted children, but now I'm afraid. I'm afraid to bring black children into this world knowing that they can be taken from it at any moment, simply for being black.

How are the mothers of young black children supposed to explain to them the crime of being black in America? How are black fathers supposed to promise to keep their children safe when the police are the ones threatening their lives? And how are black parents supposed to teach their children to respect the law when the law doesn't respect us?

I don't know the answers to these questions, and perhaps I never will. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll see a significant change in this pattern in my lifetime, but we live in a world where social justice is at the forefront of most conversations. This generation of black youth is unwilling to sit back and be used as target practice. Our ancestors fought tirelessly and died for our freedom, and we owe it to them, and to future generations to continue fighting this battle until we are accepted and respected.

This past semester, I had the opportunity hear Alicia Garza, a co-founder of the #blacklivesmatter movement, speak on my college campus. I was so excited and proud that my school was finally doing something to address these issues. I was also fortunate enough to meet her, and to be honest I was quite starstruck. She spoke of the injustice being brought down upon the black community. She spoke of her experiences. She spoke of how come together to find a solution. She spoke with such a passion and elegance that I'm sure the white men with the #alllivesmatter t-shirts in the front row didn't expect.

Before she came to campus, I hadn't realized how much I neededher to. I hadn't realized how internally conflicted I was about being at a university that seemed to ignore the issue at hand, and in some ways even add to it. When I saw the amount of people in that auditorium, people there to see Alicia Garza, to support and show solidarity with the black community, I was in awe.

Despite what some may have you believe, we are not a post racial society. Racism is real. White privilege is real. Police brutality is real. The more you try to deny these truths, the more you add to the problem. The only way to find a solution is to have an open and honest dialogue and come together in love and support for one another. I am proud of the way my peers are speaking out against the injustice we have been facing in the black community. And I am proud to add to that conversation.

Black men, you are kings. You are valued, and you are valuable. Black women, you are queens. You have black girl magic in you and that can never be taken from you.

We matter. Black lives matter.