As I get older and wiser (all 21 years and six months), I’ve come to realize that although I am an American, America (or my country) was not made for me. This land of the free was made on the backs of my ancestors who did not enjoy such freedoms. Having grown up in mostly white environments and choosing to attend a predominantly white university, I’ve become accustomed to being the only black girl in the room. My norm is either being singled out as the point person to explain race or feeling that people don’t want to speak about race around me. My norm is being put in awkward or uncomfortable situations where people might comment on my complexion, make intrusive inquiries about how I choose to wear my hair, or objectify the bodies of those who look like me. Even more so, I’ve become painfully aware of how society arbitrarily picks and chooses when to uplift black women, put them down, profit off of them, then push them aside.