Personal Narrative: The Black Lives Matter Movement

Growing up I was the most naive child around. I thought the world was full of sunshine and rainbows and that everyone was nice to one another. My parents raised me to remember the three b’s: be nice, be respectful and behave. They told me I could be whatever I wanted to be and I believed that for a very long time until I hit middle school. I didn't know I was different. I didn't see a difference between myself and the other kids but in fact, I am a minority. I didn't know that race was a thing until we took one month out of the nine in which school was in session and learned about slavery. That's when I was introduced to the word that haunted my ancestors and will eventually haunt me. The word was a product of hatred that white people made to boost their
ego and dehumanize black people for not having the same skin color. The media taught me at a young age that I would not amount to anything. That I will become another statistic and do nothing with my life. I gave up in school in seventh grade and my history teacher took a notice in my slipping grades. I stop participating in class and he called me out on it. “ Man this is stupid,” I said as I closed my book and rested my head on my desk. “ Excuse me? “ Mr.Butler, the only black member of my schools' faculty, said to me. “ This. Is. Stupid. “ I said with nothing but anger in my voice. “ I'm not gonna be anything. I am so sick of yall telling me “ you can be whatever you want to be” when its all lies. I don't need to learn about the Romans. I don't need school. This is Stupid.” He had a look of hurt and rage in his eyes. “ Do Smith 2 you honestly believe that? “ I nodded as I crossed my arms. “ Don't you EVER let anyone tell you something like that ever again? Do you understand me? That is the lie. You will do great things, all of you will. I had to work twice as hard to get to where I am today and no one thought I was gonna even graduate high school. None of you will become a statistic. You prove them wrong. “ That was the day I decided that I was gonna make something of myself. I go to a school that lacks diversity to the point it makes my stomach turn. I hear and see racial slurs being thrown around as jokes and it only enrages me. They don't understand that racism is an issue because it doesn't affect them.
No white teen whose has lived in the suburbs all their life will ever understand what it's like to struggle, what it's like to be racially profiled at work at the age of fourteen. To turn on the tv and see another unarmed black person shot and killed for no reason and seeing people dilute the black lives matter movement. The same people who blame a whole religion for 9/11, want to dilute a movement. The black lives matter movement is a message saying that we understand that all lives matter but police officers can kill whomever they want because they are never held accountable. In those moments, I am filled with anger from my head to my toes. I don't want my nieces and nephews grow up in fear of their lives. I don't want my brother to ever experience police brutality but I can't promise him that. I can't promise my future kids and grandchildren that they will grow up in a world without hate and fear of those who are different than us. Some black teenagers don't even make it to this age, let alone graduate high school. I am forever grateful for my struggles. I am grateful for the teachers who believed in me when I didn't believe in
myself. The friends who love me unconditionally. A mother who has supported me from day one. And a heart that isn't full of hate. From day one I was told I wasn't going to make Smith 3 it but look at me now. I was accepted into a medical program at the college of my dreams, Emory University, received an award of excellence from the Board of Physicians, and accepted into another medical program at Penn State College of Medicine. I will make it. I will become a doctor. I will work as hard as I possibly have to so I can achieve my dream of helping people. I am a minority. I am a black woman who will not become a statistic.