The National Youth Leadership Forum

As expected, almost every Gateway Academy student complained about the length of our previous summer reading assignments. In an attempt to appease the masses, this summer we were given Teen Leadership Revolution: How Ordinary Teens Become Extraordinary Leaders by Tom Thelen. Through fourteen chapters Thelen discusses fourteen topics ranging from bullying to self-discipline to honesty. These chapters paired with their respective questions promised to help teens “navigate the storms of life and become great leaders”. While this book was, as promised, shorter than previous assignments, it was also irrelevant, poorly written, and not appropriate for readers my age.

Growing up I was always called a “Oreo” which means a black person who is white on the inside. In school, I was always called the white girl because I was the opposite of what the stereotypical black girl was. Constantly people would say “you’re pretty for a black girl” “you’re the whitest black girl I know” etc. I took offense to these comments, because last time I checked my skin color shouldn’t categorize how I should behave, appear, or determine my interest. My school and hometown. especially is mostly more whites than anything. I played club volleyball in high school most of the time I would be the only black girl on my team, my brother played baseball growing up, he was the only black person on his team for years, so growing up I was

From Kindergarten up to my sophomore year of High School I attended a private school. My elementary school and high school were slightly diverse. The majority of the student body was Caucasian and the rest were made up of several other races. My school environment was very structured and controlled. I had some great teachers and one or two bad teachers. Around fifth grade I started to notice the way teachers perceived me and the challenges I would deal with due to the color of my skin. There were

Leaving high school I was consistently in the majority: I co-captained my basketball team and was always welcome to play. In my Bronx experience overall, I often felt racist, close-minded, and self-centered because of the reactions that I was having internally with this new environment. And even more I felt ashamed for this. I quickly wanted to escape back to Ann Arbor to be back in the majority, but I didn’t want anybody to feel bad for me. I knew that what I was thinking was mostly wrong, but I also felt it was human. Large paradigm shifts in one’s life often come with large sentiments, both good and bad. Also, I felt that my experience in the Bronx became easier and easier as I integrated and adjusted. As the shock to my system eased my feelings eased, too. I eventually began to feel extremely connected to the Bronx, the differing cultures, and even my almost omnipresent

Growing up as a black female in a white world, it was always difficult for me to balance fitting in with those around me and staying true to my personal beliefs and ideals that often conflicted with those around me. I am from the Dallas suburban city, Frisco, Texas; a city whose majority is white. Growing up most of my friends were white, most of my teachers were white and most of my classmates were white. In my middle school and elementary school years I had absolutely no ties to the black community other than the interaction that I had with my own family. Being detached from the black community led my young self to shamefully look down on the few black students that attended my school. I would look down on them for their grades in school and I would find myself annoyed by their constant loudness and disruption. I would even make snide remarks to my white friends about the black girl students’ natural hair or braids and other protective styles. Not only was I turning against my own people, but I was also forming into a person that I wasn 't designed to be. I would relax my hair and constantly straighten it in order to have it look like my friends’. I became so caught up with trying to fit in with the people around me that I didn’t appreciate and embrace the most amazing part of myself.

I grew up in a Catholic School, me being the only black person in the class for about six years. Looking like an outcast. Sometimes I wonder what my classmates thought of me since I was the only colored person in the class. I wonder if they were thinking bad things about me. Since I was the only colored person in the class. It was hard for me at first to fit in, no one would want to talk to me or play with me. Then, as I got older it was easier to fit in because I wasn’t the only other race that was there. By now the world has changed a whole lot. Lately in social media black women have been called names that no one would like to be called those names are black Barbie’s, baby mamas, and uneducated sisters.

Growing up as an African American in Winchester was an experience. It was not unusual for me to be the only student of color in class or a sports team; which bothered me at times, but I learned to accept the issue and figure out a way to fit in. I began to mimic my peers’ behavior; I walked like them, sought out similar clothing brands, I nearly convinced myself I thought like them. I basically created a superficial mask to hide my visible difference. And it worked, but, once I entered my two bedroom apartment on the “bad” side of town. My mask dissipated.

Walking the halls at school was an overall awkward situation as I attended a predominantly white private school. It was not uncommon for my peers to make jests and snide comments about the oddity of our relationship. I vividly remember the stunned expressions on the faces of my parents and siblings as I explained that my new boyfriend was not white. While my family was accepting of the news, I was warned to not mention my new relationship to my grandfather who would not be quite as understanding as he would only be blinded by his outdated and old fashioned state of mind. Meeting my boyfriend's parents for the first time was unnerving to say the least. I felt like an exhibit at a museum, being observed and analyzed by a group of people who no doubt had already made their own assumptions of my character. I could see from the skeptical look in their eyes that I was nothing more than a vapid and privileged white girl to them. All of these outward opposing forces undoubtedly created friction within the relationship. I found myself questioning if our racial differences were forcing a wedge between our families and friends or if the relationship was worth the criticism we faced. A few short months later, we called it quits, although not entirely due to the racial

In a dining hall of about 200 people, I was the only dark-skinned person. I felt singled out, but I was so excited for the coming month that I shook it off and went on with my day. Within the first week, people addressed me as “pinche negro, morocho, muerto de hambre” (ni****, black kid, starving creature) and it was only then that I realized I wasn’t welcome. Maybe people resented me solely for being a good player, maybe they just couldn’t look past the color of my skin, or perhaps it was both. Nonetheless, I was left unsettled. I started to take things a bit more slowly. I didn’t try to show off as much; I simply played my part and nothing else.

I devoted my energy to the sciences and humanities in search of career sheathed in the satisfying guard of knowledge. However, I could never separate myself entirely from the preppy, entitled demeanor. From Boy Scout camps, church outings, job opportunities, and even a new school, I am still treated by people that have never met me before like the kid I grew up as: a white kid who has always had it made for him and will never have to worry about the future so he doesn’t cherish the opportunities and knowledge he has now. They could not be more inaccurate and I take it upon myself to prove it to them by not just words, but actions. Even still, I cannot enlighten them to my true nature. My only option left is to find a new community. A community that has been unmistakably swaddled in diversity for its existence: Tulane

Yes, I am a young African American woman but I am more than capable. I am an educated “black girl” who holds a GPA of 3.9, Secretary on Sophomore Student Council, Vice President ASCEND organization, and manager of a intramural female basketball team. There have been a few occasions in this high school where people have falsely judged my intentions. Like being continuously stopped in the hallway and mistaken for skipping when I am actually handling a special assignment AND have a legitimate pass. Constantly being judged

Coming from a diverse community to a predominantly all white community has been a slow transition. I’ve experienced situations where sometimes I question my identity and who I really am. I’ve experience microaggressions within my work environment and my internship at the Boys and Girls club in Mckinleyville. Kids are extraordinary, but are a mirror image of their parents or adult figures present in the household. You can see by the way kids talk to peers or adult figures, treat one another, that there’s an unfair thinking being embedded in their cognitive development. This will affect them in how they go about their day, who they chose to interact with, what they allow to happen and the type of

An important lesson that I learned is when I went to TALK. TALK is a youth leadership program that my dad started for kids (mostly middle-high school) from immigrant families. TALK stands for time, access, like, and know. It helps students know the types of fields, then letting them find the one they like. It then gives them access to it so they can then spend time in it. It has bi-monthly sessions with guest speakers such as Senators and owners of small businesses. They are held in many places, usually meeting rooms in other businesses. Before I went there I had no faith in myself and didn’t have a direction in life. I didn’t trust myself and I thought that I couldn’t do anything important without messing up. I didn’t think that I could be important to the world. That was before I attended to

I suppose, for clarity 's sake, I must start at the beginning. For me, that is the start of my schooling, as I cannot claim to have many memories of earlier than that. As a child, I extremely unaware of race. I went to a predominantly black elementary school due to district lines, but, at the time, I did not understand the concept nor did I have any reason to. I was just excited to go to school like my big sister. As such, I was far behind many of my peers, so it would seem. A few weeks into my first day of pre-k I was approached by a few of my peers. This did not particularly alarm me, despite them having previously ignored me, as I rather liked new people.

In addition, in many of my classes, some students discriminated me because they stereotyped black people as unintelligent. I make this claim because many of my black peers have also testified that they have been discriminated due to the color of their skin. Moreover, my accent did not help the situation because immediately I spoke, they realized that I was from Africa, and associated that with being primitive. After which, they began asking me ignorant questions. This treatment was new to me because, in Kenya, most people look like me and I was, therefore, part of the majority people. However, in the United States, specifically at Xavier University, a predominantly white school, I was a minority for the first time in my life.