There I was, on a Greyhound bus leaving Union Station in Washington, D.C., with so many emotions swirling in my mind. I could not believe was actually leaving The Mecca — Howard University.
It all felt so real, yelling with others in the cold, November air, our voices surrounded in small clouds of heat and breath. To voice opinions and emotions I had pent up inside for so long was the best feeling in the world, and I could tell I was not the only one having such an experience.
I attend The George Washington University in Washington D.C., and my dorm room is only a few blocks away from the White House. I find myself steering away from the political scene before it chokes me.
I didn’t have much love for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton, so it felt like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Despite my lack of faith in either of them, I decided to vote anyway.
On Oct. 31, my grandparents, parents and I all went to the polls to cast our first-ever ballots and fulfill our civic duties as Americans, family-style.
“Your hair is ugly;” “You look like Medusa;” and “Why is your hair like that?” became my normal. I felt as if the things they were saying were accurate. My hair became the punchline.
You will graduate from college. You will find a balance between being young and a parent to your siblings. I love you. You are truly resilient, boo. Never let someone else make you feel as if you do not belong. Always remember where you come from and the power of giving back.
I didn’t blow out birthday candles my 17th year on planet Earth hoping for a gap year. It snuck up on me.
Across from the train station, I started to get nauseous from a horrific smell emanating from a nearby cafe, which I later found out was second-hand smoke from marijuana.
My school informed me I wasn’t going to deliver the speech I wrote. Instead, I was handed a salutatorian speech they wrote. I had to speak about birches and oak trees in an analogy about how to stay strong and bend when appropriate.