For as long as I can remember, we’ve learned about America ‘The Great’. We’ve learned about the seasons, the music, and the lifestyle.

But the thing I was not prepared for was… WAR.

The thought never dawned on me that communication would be such a cross to bear. After all, English was my native tongue much like theirs. I was not the enemy. But I quickly realized, the ‘miscommunication’ was more than that. It was my tone. My dialect. My diction: that made me susceptible to life in no man’s land.

I remember a verbal attack ensuing due to the word ‘vegetable’. Apparently pronouncing every letter in the word Vej-i-teh-buhl had won me the badge of ‘illiterate’, which oddly felt like friendly fire.

But saying that would make me the foreigner that couldn’t take a joke, and the last thing I needed was to experience yet another ambush.

During my first tour in ‘The Great’, my college roommate asked if I’d ever seen a television. Now, this question truly baffled me and I responded with “Oh no!, we draw on rocks for entertainment” followed by an eye roll. I’m West Indian, not a Martian. But at this point, sarcasm seemed to be the best defense to cope with my battle scars.

Marcus Garvey once said “Intelligence rules the world, ignorance carries the burden.” So I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that sarcasm doesn’t help to solve the issue of ignorance, but I’ve never been a fan of disrespect and I didn’t plan to start now.

Not only had my accent and traditions become a point of contention but also my race.

I had NEVER felt the need to emphasize or defend my blackness. This gem had been hidden in the marketing of America ‘The Great’.

They’d made sure to sell us the American dream, but forgot to mention that freedom and civil liberties were sold separately.

That was honestly the first time I’d ever felt robbed. Of my safety. But surely not the last.

I had seen people that look like me die during every news cycle until desensitization set in.

Great! I’d entered a warzone under the guise of opportunity.

No one spoke on the idea of my body being under attack because of race, gender and profession. But I’m not sure how much they knew because they were sold the story too.

So here I am, writing this love letter to you.

I pray that you keep your pride intact and fly your flag high.

Be exactly who you are. Stand straight and speak up.

Don’t lose yourself; stay connected to your heritage and most of all your joy. For one day you will become a gatekeeper of your culture.

Do not allow acculturation to become assimilation. The parts of you that are different will always be accepted amongst those that understand and those that choose to learn.

Create spaces around you where you can be free unapologetically. Where you can be loved and understood endlessly. Where you can speak with no hesitation and dance like you’re at carnival. You are dynamic, well traveled, multilingual, and alluring.

Creating space to love yourself and be loved will serve as your tactical shield. Your light will shine. And as the late great Malcolm X once said, “Light creates understanding, understanding creates love, love creates patience, and patience creates unity.”

-Denisha Parry, Houston, TX