If I could be honest, I haven’t always been aware of my blackness. It was something that I witnessed all of my life along with the perils of watching others carry the burden of being black, but me…I never understood my blackness. My parents were born during a time where there was no way in the hell you could not be aware of your blackness. It was a time when you dare not be conscious of your blackness. A period where, “are you out of your mind, you’s black!” type of era. It was obvious that they didn’t want to live being black + now explain it to me what it was going to represent to me when clearly I had not lived their working day as of yet.