Sometimes living life is a chore, because “life” is always throwing darts in your path, making you weak. For instance, it’s sometimes hard to keep your head up when someone puts you down every single day. People that come at you with painful words that hurt like a bullet piercing your skull.

I felt like the whole world was out to get me. Like I had a neon sign above my head. It was hard growing up as a black girl who was born into great values. It was hard even walking into a store because the people would judge you like you were a contestant on American Idol. Everywhere I went, there was always someone who would bully me when I would least expect it. One day when I was in Monterey with my grandparents, we walked into a general store and everyone looked at us like were were wearing clown clothes.We could all tell that we weren’t welcomed here and that they felt uncomfortable that we were around them.

As I was looking at the little dolls that they had in the store, a little girl came up to me with a scared expression on her face. She was blond, had blue eyes, and very tan skin. I could tell that she has never seen “my kind.” She stared at me for two seconds and then disappeared. When I saw her again she came back with a wet wipe. At first I thought that she was going to give me the wipe because she was going to help me wipe off the Yogurt that I had just ate before I came in the store. But no. She came closer to me and put the wet wipe on my arm and started rubbing my skin. I was shocked because this stranger was trying to wipe my very own skin off. My grandmother came over to see what we were doing and said, “You can’t take it off. The brown is her real skin. It will never come off.” She put her head down and scurried away. That day I clutched on to my skin just in case another person would attack me with a wet wipe.

In third grade I had just moved to Alaska, and I was the new kid at school. I was very nervous because I wasn’t used to meeting new people because I had always hung out with the same people everyday. I was also the only African American girl in my class too, but I had gotten used to it. There was one girl, Chloe, who was mean to everyone. One day we were outside on the playground playing “Sharkboy and Lavagirl” Then all of a sudden Chloe came up to me. At first I thought she was going to say her usual phrase, “I’m better than you.” like she told everyone else. But instead she told me something very unpredictable. “I hate black people! They are so stupid and poor. You will be homeless when you grow up!” At that point, I wanted to smash her face like a pie! I wanted to put her in pain!

In fifth grade I went back to Cali to live with my grandparents. I had started a new school (again)-- a private school named St. Paul. I thought that was the best school on earth because everyone was so nice to me and I felt like I was the Queen of the World. I had met two new friends, Megan and Madeline. We all became instant best friends. We did everything together we went to mall, we went to the movies, we had so much fun! But everything went down like timber when 6th grade came.

6th grade year came around. I was excited to meet new people and have a blast. But nothing went as planned. Megan and Madeline became instantly popular. Everyone would crowd around them and tell them “Oh Madeline you are so pretty!” Or “Do you wear make up? Where did you get your clothes.” Nobody else saw their true colors. I was the only one that really knew how they acted. Everyone at school thought that they were really kind and caring, but I knew that in the inside they had a “black hole” in their heart. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to share the fame that they had.

I tried everything to become popular, but I failed at every attempt. I even tried hanging out with their friends trying to get to know them better. All they did was blow me off like dust. Everyone at school said that they were so “nice” and “caring”. But in the inside they were mean like a villain waiting to plot their next plan. I would say “hi” to them in the halls. We would only talk for a “hot minute” and move on.
Later on in the year they started to change. They started to bully me more than ever. They started spreading rumors that my grandparents were “poor” and that we didn’t have a lot of money. Everyday I came to school it seemed to get worse and worse. More weight was added to my shoulders every single day. Even their friends were starting to join in the action. They started calling me mean racist names. I would have to come to school, battling to try to keep my strength up when they would call me “n*****” And I thought my life was O.V.E.R.

But no. I didn’t let that stop me there. I decided to not care about what people said. That’s why I am the person I am today. I feel a lot more confident in myself because someone reached out to me and helped me on my way. I would like to thank my best friend, Kayla who has helped me mold the person I am today. Whenever I needed someone to talk to she was there. Whenever I told her “I’m useless, nobody will be my friend.” She told me “Faith, don’t worry about them. Karma will get them and kick their butt. Just keep thinking about moving forward and you will be fine.” Together we were like Batman and Robin working together as a team. We stood up for what was right. We shot the enemies with kind, amazing words. She actually made me feel like an actual human being and not an alien. Even though she was “white”, she understood all of my problems that faced when I was racially bullied.

To this day I would like to say that Kayla has been my influence. The one that has helped me with most of my problems. Now I don’t even worry about those girls, they can go on with their lives making fun of people, but I know in the future that won’t bring them happiness. Now when I walk the halls of my middle school I am proud to say “I’m black! You guys can hate me if you want.” So to all those teens and kids out there, bullying is a “no joke” situation. If someone is racially bullying you or someone you know, don’t care about what people say. Most of the time they are jealous that you are different. It is your race be proud of it.