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I had lived the privilege of a blackness that was reaffirmed in society, and found myself reflected in every echelon of power, and tale of despair. My experiences had been normalized, rather than nominal. I had walked streets and avenues, surrounded by nothing but brown shiny faces and had never experienced the color of my skin as a coat to be put on outside my home. It is because of this that I spend the first two years in America looking for faces like mine in every public space, finding them, counting them, willing them to multiply so that my skin can feel at ease again. It never happens.
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