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The first time I learned that I was different was in 7th grade. My cheerleading coach retired, and we all re-auditioned to stay on the team for the new coach. I was the only person who wasn’t invited to re-join the team. I was also the only black girl on the team.
I was devastated. My parents, on the other hand, were ready. They went straight to the school and filed a complaint. The school asked the coach why I didn’t make the team, and the coach couldn’t give one good reason. Not one. The principal vetoed the coach’s decision, and I was reinstated onto the team. I also got the talk from my parents, about how we were different from our otherwise very white town in the Pacific Northwest and what that meant for our futures.
Continue reading Reka’s story at Blavity.
This post was produced and paid for by MoveOn Political Action.