Piecing Me Together

by Renée Watson

When I watch the news and see unarmed black men and women shot dead over and over, it’s kind of hard to believe this world is mine.

I don’t know what’s worse. Being mistreated because of the color of your skin, your size, or having to prove that it really happened.

Makes me feel like no matter how dressed up we are, no matter how respectful we are, some people will only see what they want to see.

At school, with my white friends and teachers, there were all these stereotypes I felt I had to dispel, and, with a lot of my black friends, I had to prove that I was black enough—whatever that means.