I’ve tried so many times before to write about racism, but I always get to the really hard parts in my story, and my words get stuck. I was raised in a very religious home, so one might question how racism could have crept into my young life. I was born and raised in Mississippi, which of course is known for a highly spotted racial past. Racism was not a blatant part of my every day life growing up, but when extended family would get together for reunions or funerals, I heard many a racist “joke” or tirade. Even though the people in my every day life did not openly speak of such things, I do recall them all laughing along with the “jokes” or nodding sympathetically to someone’s tirade.

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