“I can’t hug you because you’re black.” I remember hearing this at the SunShine Inn at the ripe age of nine years. It’s been seven years since that day, and I can still feel those words bouncing around in my head. Now I can’t blame the person for saying this, we were young and I know it’s just because their parents felt this way. 

But as time went on, I couldn’t blame people’s parents anymore. For example, when I got called “fishy” because I had seashells in my newly done crochet braids. I was sitting in my middle school English class. Quarantine during covid finally died down, so we were finally back at school after so long. During quarantine, I stopped relaxing my hair and started standing developing my own identity. I stood up by posting on all the social media platforms I had. This led to me being put into a groupchat with kids in my grade who identified as republicans, and they were talking about how much they hated me. But this did not phase me, because my new hairstyle made me feel powerful. But then, one mean comment made me lose all of my imaginary strength. I still don’t put seashells in my hair anymore because of this. Saying things just because your parents say it is one thing, but saying things because it’s something you know will hurt a person is different.

One time, my friend pulled me aside and showed me a map just to get my reaction. He pointed to a country in Africa that is missing one letter or it would be the n-word. I still think about what my friend was wanting me to say. All I did was look at my skin and wonder what I was expected to think and feel. I still do this when I hear the n-word from people around me. I’ve heard it too many times to count from white people. I will not talk about my opinion on it, because it is simply a useless conversation. I am proud of the people who do speak about how they feel towards it, but I also wish they would bring up the smaller things they have to deal with too.

I recall the looks in history class whenever we talked about slavery. I’ve always found “their looks” weird and have wondered what they are thinking about. Were they wondering if the teachers’ history lessons would make me cry or did they wonder if I was holding hidden resentment for them? I know I am not the only one who has felt like this, and I want to hear from others that I am not alone.

I want proof that my feelings are valid and that the words I hear in my head make sense. The words that always linger in my brain are, “I feel I am too dark in class and too white in braiding salons.” When I have my hair straightened, I get endless compliments, but when I have my hair curly, I just get kind smiles and compliments on anything but my hair.

I blame the small town lifestyle for this because whenever I am out traveling in cities, I feel less like I stand out as different. I feel like I can just walk around and look like the person ahead of me. It’s freeing knowing that I can be small and still be seen. I often get called other peoples names just because we are both mixed race. This is a rural experience.

I have learned to form perspectives about growing up in a primarily white town while being one of the few minorities. I find ways to deal with my hair being touched without my permission and I learn to overlook being expected to laugh at racist jokes hidden in normalized humor. I have simply accepted that my friends are white first and my friends second. I wouldn’t expect anything different coming from a small town. 

I believe everyone feels this way in some way or another since we all live in such a small community. This is why I am excited for my future. I plan on going someplace new where the feelings I feel now simply won’t exist. I will be able to forget I ever felt alone in the town I grew up in.