On the surface, some things always looked the same. The birds sing their heart out awaiting for the worms to come through the earth, just as they always did. The old men still sit at the pub with their coats on sucking on ales. The road are flat and tidy, there are the buggies and their owners, the old ladies with their bags, the impatient children waiting for the bus.
The blur is real. When I was young, I was sent every holiday, in one of the toughest neighbourhood in Paris where most children of immigrants can be found, to experience first hand what it means to be a product of your environment. I was bullied not because of the colour I shared with them but what I represented in their mind - the product of a middle-class family. Yes, I was born neither white or black. I identify as mixed race. I was privileged to be raised in a household where your creativity and ingenuity was more prized than any other type of achievement (i.e. education, getting married or making money). The experience made me appreciate even more what was given to me. The experience also forced me to be very selective in what I was allowed to say depending on the people I was with. Social oppression in the age of free speech is just too real when you are young and uneducated. As for now, I am more educated and aware that free speech is one of the foundations of o...
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