Rural Texas wears a friendly facade. You know everyone, and everyone treats each other so kindly, but, if you’re Black, you just ignore the stares when you walk into the local steakhouse for fish fry night.
I was 7 or 8 when I realized I would always be treated differently than my white friends. It was picture day and I was waiting in line near our classroom and watching as my teacher fixed every girl’s hair. I eagerly waited for her to fix mine, but she never did. I assumed it was because my hair was already twisted into three cute ponytails, a classic hairstyle for little Black girls.
But when I got home and asked my mom, she told me my teacher didn’t know what to do since my hair had a different texture than my friends’.
