I was born with albinism. I know a little bit of what it’s like to be left out, teased for the way I look, for strangers to comment on my hair. But I also grew up in the south. There were maybe three black kids in my whole high school of 1500. I didn’t think my family was racist until I got into an argument with my stepfather when I asserted I would be comfortable dating a black man. It’s hard to break past all the unconscious feelings and fears I unknowingly absorbed. Not to be afraid of black guys I pass in the street. But I’m committed. Marching through downtown with a BLM protest was one of my proudest moments. I wish I could do more, but at the same time, as a queer, disabled parent living under the poverty line, it feels like every day is a struggle to not give into despair. We fight and fight but things don’t change. The rich get richer and watch the poor die while paying lip service to diversity. I can only hope we somehow manage to leave a better world for our children.