As a black woman, sometimes you must stand alone. At least it may feel that way, I grew up in a bi-racial family. My mother is half black and half Polynesian and my father is completely black. My two brothers, however, have different fathers, and their fathers are fully Polynesian. Growing up in my family was difficult because, in my family, your Polynesian features are seen as more desirable. I show more black features, such as my skin tone and hair type. Virtually, everyone in my family had long wavy hair, except me. I have very thick, coily hair. My hair was often described as nappy or wild. My mother would constantly straighten it or add chemicals to make it more manageable. When I would stay with my grandmother, she had no idea what to do with my hair. My hair became a huge part of my identity, yet I hated it because in my eyes and my family's eyes it wasn't beautiful. I always felt out of place with my family, I was quiet and shy. I was frequently picked on and picked apart. My aunt would call me her little monkey, but as a child, I didn't realize what that had meant. I was always held to a higher standard than my brothers, I had to do twice the work and it had to be better. As I got older, I had internalized many of the racial/gender standards that I was raised with. I was very insecure about my appearance and very self-critical. I was always doubting myself whether it was in school, how I looked that day, or what I would say. Finally, I had come to realize and understand the trauma from my childhood. I was not alone. My story is a common story among black women. I find strength in my pain because I know that other women share the same story. I never want another little black girl to feel the same pain. For the past year and a half, I have worked in childcare. I see the same self-doubt and resentment in some of the little black girls I care for. I uplift these girls, I am constantly reassuring them, and speaking up for them. I will style my hair to match theirs just to see the smile on their face, and hear them say "Ms. Zeilah look we're twins." I use my experiences to encourage them. My childhood experiences have prepared me for the real world. In every aspect of life; work, school, politics, etc; Black women have to work harder, and be louder just to be seen. Black women have to do more to be heard, to be acknowledged, just to even be in the room or even have a seat at the table. Now that I know that I am never alone, I am becoming more outspoken, and unapologetic. When I speak out, I speak for every black woman who has come before me, and every who has come after.