When I was younger age about 10 yr old, I had very long hair and it meant a lot to me as my mother looked after it, it was always washed and greased and well looked after. One day I went to the park with my older sister. We was playing and I went down a slide but on my way down my hair was plated and it got caught in the slide, the slide was broken and had a crack in it. As I came of the slide I then realised my plat was in the crack of the slide, I had a square missing my plat had been ripped out. I started to cry I went home and told my mum. I also gave the plat to my mum, up to this day she still has it.
I’m proud to be black because us black people are different. We ain’t all the same, not all of us cut, have the same hair, talk the same, for e.g. I am black but I am mixed with Indian which means my hair is curly. People don’t understand what it is called. It’s true what people say about black people we may all be the same colour but people should not judge, coz not all black people talk the same and dress, I know black people that talk posh like a white person and black people that dress smart all the time.
Being black has and hasn’t been easy I use to go to a white area and get people looking at me calling out ‘oi you black boy’. I use to think ‘wow, why are they being rude’, is it coz I’m not the same colour as then and I don’t dress like them.
My mother also told me there are people that ain’t gonna like the way we look, talk and dress. Why? Because we are not the same colour.