Until I was fourteen years old, I had one black friend. And she lived across the country. So, really, I had none. Growing up in predominantly white suburbs, I spent most of my days as the only black child in my class—the only black Brownie in my Girl Scouts troop; the only black girl on my softball teams; and, the one with “poufy” hair at slumber parties. Before it was cool, I wore Vans and rotated 311 with Kris Kross. I spent my high school years fitted in (Abercrombie and) Fitch, far away from the “black table,” nestled in as the token. Read More At Madamenoire.com
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When Your Child Has No Black Friends…
