Sincerely, a POC

From a young age, I had to grow up quickly. Starting as early as the fresh age of five, I was a small kindergartner, one of the most petite in my grade. I pushed around this girl in the racecar around the blacktop and when it went over a bump, the car toppled over, she got a scrape. Instantly, the feeling of guilt consumed my body because I knew what I had done, but after saying sorry and expecting the usual, "it's okay", I got a hateful glare and a, "Ching chong ching".

In second grade, my mom, myself and my cousins spent a day at the Pismo Outdoor Mall and I had gotten my first "big girl" buy: a brand new, bright white sweater from PacSun. It was awesome. Clearly, I had to wear it to school the next day and that I did. During lunch, I was sitting down with my friend at the tetherball courts. A fifth grade boy approaches me and my friend and starts playing with the tetherball, but carefully glancing at the both of us. Minutes later, he stomps into the muddy grass and his shoes are slathered in dirt. Seconds later, the feet that wear those shoes were impounded into my back, spoiling my brand new sweater. Pain ringing down my back, I sit there, stunned. My friend runs to tell the noon-aid. While she's gone, the same boy shouts racist remarks at me, unhooks the tetherball from the chain and swings it at me. I'm seven.

Then, I'm nine. In fourth grade. I'm in a combination class: fourth and fifth. Cool, right? Not cool. I meet a fifth grade girl, she's super intelligent; no doubt she'd go on to achieve great things later on in life. During an innocent game of jailbreak (basically dodgeball, but with a volleyball net), she persuades her team to target me. They fail to strike me with the ball. I catch it. They laugh and say, "Wow, she thinks she's tough." I wasn't and I felt like the inside of me was going to collapse, but I, at the age of nine, knew I had to stand up for myself or nobody would. They yelled at me in that same "ching chong" gibberish I had heard at the age of five. I threw the ball in anger, injured the girl, got into trouble. She did not face any consequences despite my cries, telling the teacher what she had said to me.

Today, I'm nineteen. Yesterday, Donald Trump was elected as the 45th President of the United States of America. Today, schools across the state have protested half of the nation's decision. Tomorrow, the marginalized communities will fear what the future has in store. I am part of the marginalized community.

When I was five, I learned that people will judge you for your physical differences. At age seven, I learned that as hard as you try to fit in with the majority, you won't be able to. When I was nine, I learned that violence gets you nowhere and sometimes, your voice won't be heard. What's done is done and from this point forward, I encourage my generation, future generations, and my communities to fight hard for what they believe in with class, dignity and poise. I encourage you to educate yourself, your children, your friends. Tears might stream down my cheeks as I type these words and terror might run through my body, but the fire has been ignited and I'm sure many others have been as well.

See you next post,

Chey

Currently listening to Good News by Ocean Park Standoff