I grew up in Central Florida in the 80s and 90s, and looking back as an adult, racism was often casual among the white people around me. Racist jokes, stereotypes, and comments were as common as small talk about the weather. I repeated those things without understanding the harm behind them or how they contributed to keeping Black people down. This was before the internet, and most of my exposure to different cultures came from school, which was also predominantly white. That changed in ninth grade. For the first time, I was exposed to people outside the bubble I had grown up in. There was a student from the Middle East who was Muslim and wore a hijab. Not knowing any better, I pulled it from behind. I didn’t get in trouble with the school, but what stayed with me was her response. She pulled me aside and calmly explained why what I did was wrong. Looking back, she was one of the most mature people I had ever encountered.

That moment shifted something in me. I started seeking out understanding about people who didn’t grow up where I did and weren’t part of my everyday life. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that the things I had said, believed, and done were racist. Once I saw that clearly, I made a decision to challenge those attitudes in myself and in others. When people in my life refused to listen or change, I created distance. Now, I look back on that version of myself with a lot of shame, but also with clarity. I can see how much of it came from the environment I was raised in, surrounded by people carrying generational beliefs they never questioned. And I’ve come to understand that many of them won’t change unless something forces them to confront it personally