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Navigating Corona

I'm usually try to appear strong in the wake of tragedy. And I think I do a good job. But the one person who can always see through me is my mother. I used to try to hide my pain from her, but she can sense it in my voice.

This day, I was just worn out from an article I read about the racial disparities that have been exposed because of the coronavirus. It's an amazing article, but it cut me deep in one of the many places I keep hidden in my heart. We all know that racism exists -- no matter what White people say. And we know that it colors every facet of our Black lives. But to see how people are dying because of it is horrifying to me.

Add to that the fact that I can't go home. Even though my mother would welcome me with open arms,  the state of Texas won't because I happen to live in the corona hotspot of New York City. And let's be clear -- even if I could get in the state, I don't want to possibly infect my mother with this deadly disease. 

So I sit here in my room and try not lose my mind. My heart hurts so much that I can literally feel it failing inside me. I'm not necessarily afraid, but I hate the fact that my brown skin means that my care is substandard. It's not my fault that melanin is part of my heritage.

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