Growing up as a black kid in a predominantly white neighborhood wasn't easy.
I struggled to find my identity.
I struggled to fit in.
I struggled to embrace what it truly meant to be a black kid growing up in Los Angeles.
My elementary school was mostly white Jewish kids. Nothing wrong with that, obviously, but I didn't necessarily fit in.
In middle school, add a few black kids to the roster. But that was about it.
During my teenage years, I was pretty much thrown into schooling with kids who had grown up in schools surrounded by other kids that looked like them.
Surrounded by other kids that shared their culture.
Instead of being an outsider from just one group, I was an outsider from two groups.
I couldn't fully connect with the white kids at school.
But I also couldn't fully connect with the black kids at school either.
I was in no-mans land.
Sure, I was able to make a few friends here and there, but I was never entirely accepted into the group of kids.
As a light-skinned black man, I was prevented from fully embracing my culture outwardly in public. The social mask that others deemed I should wear because I was lightskinned and came from a certain neighborhood set constraints for me, and it didn't matter what happened when I was at home.
Because of this, high school was a tough and confusing time for me.
On one side, I had to deal with racist remarks and having the "N" word thrown at me. And from the other side, I was being called whitewashed.
Growing up with all of this, I wasn't able to find my voice. I wasn't comfortable with expressing my heritage and culture publicly enough to speak up.
Today, I regret that.