Hands Up, Don't Shoot

I became aware that I was Black when I started college last year. Understand what I'm saying: until I left my environment and came to one where hardly anyone looked like me, I was not aware of the color of my skin. A passion for learning about my culture and its history has always existed, but it's almost as if something lit a fire on that passion and now it's roaring out of control. This hunger to learn more, to be more politically active now exists and yet I feel starved. Sometimes I question if an HBCU would've been a better place for me, but I'm realizing that coming here was a wake-up call. Today we held a protest on campus, practically all day. When I got up this morning, I prayed, hoping that I would get to see others who care about what's going on in Ferguson as much as I do and want to bring awareness about what is going on to Marist. And there are. Between 12 and 8 we moved between the library and the dining hall, simply holding signs and passing out information. There were not many of us, but we still made a statement. I think about what happened during the Civil Rights Movement, and I feel obligated to do what those who came before me have done. This is our time; we should carry on that torch. I'm simply filled with joy to have met like-minded individuals, and I appreciate them for standing with us. And the general response from people was positive. Some clapped, some said thank you. It was amazing. I thank all of you for today; I cannot put into words how much it meant to me. I also thank my friends who came and stood with me and supported me. 

I learned a lot today, about myself, about my peers. It was a very eye-opening experience, and I'm ready to do more. Did you know that one of the major participants in the Civil Rights Movement were college students? What happened in the 1960s mirrors what is happening today. We have indeed come so far, but we've got so far to go.