I’ve been black my whole life. It’s funny how the math of race works: a black woman meets a white man and makes a black child. I’ve always known that, but at the same time, it’s a new discovery. And having discovered it, I am afraid.
America has never played by the rules when it comes to black people. But this generation of young black Americans are the first to be raised expecting a fair world, and now we don’t know what to do. We’re sad, we’re hurt, and we’re afraid.
Day by day my fear turns into anger. Day by day I lose more of my precious little remaining faith that America will heal its racial divide soon, if ever. Most of all, I fear what happens if it doesn’t. I fear that Black Lives Matter will one day become a violent movement. Most of all, I fear I’ll be there with them, anger fueling my every action and hate in my heart.
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