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But then, there was a shooting in a Black church in South Carolina.Thus, an American Black woman who balks this trend and mates outside of her race will likely be subject to ridicule.2015 was a violent year in America.

The morning after, I had an early meeting at work and left him to sleep until I returned. The morning was cold and bright; the sun was on his cheek. I smiled to myself, thinking that life was finally turning around -- back in my own place again, with a new handsome gentleman -- and headed off to what could be a new career. And it's true that, as a dark-skinned girl in the American South, I was a victim of colorism in my own community because my dark was too dark.I wrote him a poem to read when he woke up, then left. That bastardized word, often representing spiritual awareness, somehow has become synonymous in a sub-culture of the Black community with natural hair and extended conversations about the pineal gland. I was called many names, including Crunchy Black, and Miss Black-Ass America (after I started winning pageants). People often volunteered their confusion with my attractiveness versus my skin tone -- they somehow didn't belong together.We met on a January night, when I was out with girlfriends visiting from other cities. He sat next to me at the restaurant and eventually my friends huddled into their own conversation, leaving him and me to fend for ourselves. The date ended with an impressive kiss (we made out). Because after leaving a "good" job, moving to a new state and leaving behind people who love me, switching my spacious waterfront apartment for my aunt's back bedroom/office, and getting a part-time holiday job at Nordstrom just to keep gas in my Honda, I'd 'bout maximized my fears and delighted in an opportunity for some revelry. I moved into a beautiful and spacious loft with a couple I'd met some weeks before. It's true that I grew up as a black girl child in the American South, and had defining experiences with racism.Twerking and drinking took its toll and led to empty stomachs, so at 3 a.m. The driver was kind and the ride over was so pleasant that we asked him to dine with us. Good and easy conversation kept us afloat freely, with stories of passport stamps to philosophies. Drew was there on moving day, lugging the heaviest furniture as family looked on. I've been called nigger, been a petting zoo, and been harassed by the police.In part, I left The South because I felt very ostracized.

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When I moved to Mozambique for the summer in 2008, my life flipped upside down.

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