My name is Moji Akinde, and I am an African from Nigeria. And I am American. And I am black. And I am African-American.
I am baffled that, in light of the murders of innocent black lives, a disturbingly large number of my fellow African brethren refuse to identify and empathize with being African-American. We are of the rhetoric that African-Americans could somehow avoid being racially profiled, targeted and killed by simply altering the way they dress, talk, act and live. We believe that if only black people would say their “Please” and “Thank Yous,” if only they wore a 3-piece suit to bed, if only they didn’t speak unless spoken to, if only they didn’t drink or smoke, if only. . .
We tell them to “just go to school” but refuse to acknowledge the bravery of little Ruby Bridges, the first black student to attend an all-white school post segregation in 1960.
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