When I was younger, being Black and Nigerian never caused me any problems. I grew up in a fairly diverse town and school district. Throughout elementary school, I had friends of multiple races and ethnicities.
Last week, I was in an argument. Although no punches were thrown, I felt like I got slapped in the face a few times, but I thought I did the best I could. Even though I was ducking and weaving through the racist rhetoric, it still felt like I got my ass beat.
Imagine this: It’s a Sunday afternoon and you’re on your way home for the evening. To your annoyance, the route you normally take has more traffic than normal. Initially, the bumper-to-bumper backup is inching along, but it quickly grinds to a complete halt.