We judge cultures, ethnicities, upbringings, etc. We’re born into our circumstances; we don’t choose them. Later, some choose the wrong path, but we don’t encourage them. Why not? We’re all humans and deserve the opportunity to be loved, trusted, great; especially when we are “undeserving.” I’ve been written off before. At times I just needed someone to believe in me. It would’ve changed my life. This is why I believe in people.
I’m from a black, single parent home, raised in a government housing project until we received a housing voucher. Mom built an amazing façade. My sister and I didn’t notice our deprivations until we got scholarships for private school. Us: black, impoverished, hand-me-downs, silver Volvo that had to be jumpstarted. Then we were carless until the Stacks gave us the gold Saturn (God bless them). The list continues. Them: majority white, shiny Beemers, children of lawyers, doctors, etc. It was/is the epitome of k-8 education, but there, I was a statistic. They said I had learning disabilities and issues that they, apparently, didn’t want to deal with. A place that, later, became a safe haven for me decided that I wasn’t worth it. I was different, but at ten I didn’t know how to express that. I needed someone to believe in me.
Expelled in the fifth grade, parents split, poor black kid in a rich, white county. I felt hopeless. At 16, I attended the church I was raised in. I should’ve found hope there, right? I got involved in ministry, changing the lives of others and myself. Rebuilt friendships, made new ones, found mentors, became a mentor. I faced obstacles and didn’t deal with them properly, like most young adults. Instead of refuge, I encountered judgment and condemnation. I grew there, but it’s oxymoronic that I conquered depression, anger and addiction after I left. I believed in and trusted you all, why couldn’t you do the same?
Now, people express their belief in me. Some have been around for my entire life, but were too busy to carry me along. But that’s not what I needed. I needed someone like my grandfather, but closer than a ten-hour drive. I needed my mom to be transparent and prove that scars aren’t handicaps. I needed a school head that didn’t make me feel crazier than the kid who ran away from school every week. I needed mentors to not just fight spiritually, but physically, even when I made it impossible. Because of my experiences, it’s important for me to spread worth. “I believe in you” may never be spoken, but the message will be conveyed. Little black children, I believe in you. Those who are told they aren’t smart because they don’t test well, I believe in you. You are smart. Inner city children, I believe in you. Homeless man, I believe in you. Convicted felon, I believe in you. The person who has never been told that they can, and will, be great; I believe in you.
I’m from a black, single parent home, raised in a government housing project until we received a housing voucher. Mom built an amazing façade. My sister and I didn’t notice our deprivations until we got scholarships for private school. Us: black, impoverished, hand-me-downs, silver Volvo that had to be jumpstarted. Then we were carless until the Stacks gave us the gold Saturn (God bless them). The list continues. Them: majority white, shiny Beemers, children of lawyers, doctors, etc. It was/is the epitome of k-8 education, but there, I was a statistic. They said I had learning disabilities and issues that they, apparently, didn’t want to deal with. A place that, later, became a safe haven for me decided that I wasn’t worth it. I was different, but at ten I didn’t know how to express that. I needed someone to believe in me.
Expelled in the fifth grade, parents split, poor black kid in a rich, white county. I felt hopeless. At 16, I attended the church I was raised in. I should’ve found hope there, right? I got involved in ministry, changing the lives of others and myself. Rebuilt friendships, made new ones, found mentors, became a mentor. I faced obstacles and didn’t deal with them properly, like most young adults. Instead of refuge, I encountered judgment and condemnation. I grew there, but it’s oxymoronic that I conquered depression, anger and addiction after I left. I believed in and trusted you all, why couldn’t you do the same?
Now, people express their belief in me. Some have been around for my entire life, but were too busy to carry me along. But that’s not what I needed. I needed someone like my grandfather, but closer than a ten-hour drive. I needed my mom to be transparent and prove that scars aren’t handicaps. I needed a school head that didn’t make me feel crazier than the kid who ran away from school every week. I needed mentors to not just fight spiritually, but physically, even when I made it impossible. Because of my experiences, it’s important for me to spread worth. “I believe in you” may never be spoken, but the message will be conveyed. Little black children, I believe in you. Those who are told they aren’t smart because they don’t test well, I believe in you. You are smart. Inner city children, I believe in you. Homeless man, I believe in you. Convicted felon, I believe in you. The person who has never been told that they can, and will, be great; I believe in you.
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