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I was actually born in the north. When my family and I moved to the south, a lot of students would point out my foreign features. They would say I looked Asian and laugh. I would be going home and telling my mother about it. My mother made sure to educate me about my Puerto Rican roots. She said my hair and small eyes come from my Taino indigenous roots and my skin tone comes from my African roots. My sass comes from my Spanish ancestors. Learning about my roots made me feel proud of myself and I gained confidence. I realized there was nothing wrong with me but there was something wrong with the students instead.

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In my early childhood, I was next door neighbors to a Black family. They had a daughter a few years older than me who played with my older sister and of course I'd tag along as the annoying younger sister that wanted to be included. We moved shortly after so I don't have many more memories about my old neighbors but around middle school age, me and my mother were in a store and my mom happened to recognize the mother of their family. They talked for a bit and then eventually went separate ways. I remember clearly when my mom turned to me and whispered something very stereotypical and racist. I was taken aback of course because up until that point, their family being a different race to my family wasn't something I had paid any attention to. After that incident I began to notice all the stereotypical and sly comments that either my parents or other white people around me would say. I feel that ever since that incident I have been conscious of race as well as never being who my parents ever were.

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Since I'm older and life may be viewed from a wiser perspective, I actually think about this topic often. During my sophomore year in high school, I had one of my earliest encounters with racism. I come from an African American family, and although we all have extremely diverse skin tones, we all share many of the same characteristics. With that being said, I didn't grow up in a household where you were discriminated based on the color of your skin.
Entering high school was a whole new regime for me I feel. It seemed that the beauty standard of a girl was preferably of a lighter shade. In my case, I was a fair skinned girl, but one of my closest friends was darker skinned. I noticed that she would be talked about amongst the boys at our school. They talked about her looks, her skin color, her size, etc. They labeled her ugly or too dark, and many more terrible things. It was even apparent with some of our friends parents that were from a different race. For me, this was an eye opener about the real world. It showed me that not everyone is raised like what you would expect. Society is cruel, and unfortunately this affects everyone. Honestly, before experiencing this situation, I was never self-conscious about my race and what I looked like to other people. In fact, all of my siblings are darker toned, and it made me understand the significant role that racism can play in a persons life.

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While I can't think back far enough to when I first ever recognized that race mattered, because it happened throughout my whole childhood, I can speak about an event that definitely effected the way I viewed race. I was probably around 10 years old at Sunday school, sitting at a table with my peers. The only kid who wasn't white was a quiet Asian boy. The boy had gotten up to go to the bathroom and the teacher had left for a short amount of time to show him where it was. A couple of the other boy students started pulling at their eyes to make them squint and laughing at each other. At first I didn't understand what they were doing but then they started talking about him. I was so young at this time so it is pretty crazy that the memory has stuck with me this long, but I think that just shows how much it changed my thinking. I can even remember feeling uncomfortable by the situation not liking that they were talking about him behind his back. I'm sure most other people raised in the public school system have seen instances very similar to this. Those boys were so young and clearly didn't realize the significance of what they were doing, but they were definitely modeling behavior that they had seen around them. I think from then on I became more aware of how people viewed others differently because of their race.

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My first experience with racial consciousness was when I was in 6th grade. In the first semester of my 6th-grade year, I attended a predominantly white middle school with less than 10% African American students and even fewer Asians and other minorities. At the time, I had no idea why everyone in my higher placement classes was White or why so many minority students in lower-level courses were viewed as less intelligent or lazy. When I transferred to a different county the following semester, the reasons quickly became clear. My new school was far more diverse, with fewer White students than every minority combined; I quickly began to see minorities in higher-level classes, and I realized that different schools treated minorities differently. The reason why so few minorities participated in higher-level classes in my previous school was not due to a lack of aspiration but rather to a lack of resources available and social pressures that encouraged them to remain in lower-level classes along with institutional racism that kept them and their families from having the money or time to spend on tutoring or studying. Once I was in a truly diverse school, the issues surrounding race that were discussed in my classes quickly became clear. While most people formed their social groups around their race or culture, many people were open-minded and connected to others based on their interests or hobbies, which made it far easier to find people I could relate to. Additionally, because enough minority families existed in the county, the school had been pressured to create the resources and structure necessary to support them thanks to the PTA and other parents who spoke their minds and had the power to create real change. I have no doubt that the families of the few African Americans in my old middle school would have been ridiculed or simply ignored had they tried to voice their opinions on issues surrounding their children and their academic success. This needs to change; there should not have to be a considerable minority population in order to overwhelm the silencing power of the majority in schools.

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I remember thinking about racism when I was in middle school. At the time, I was in sixth grade. I was taught to never judge anyone's skin color regardless of their race. My best friend was bullied because she was darker than the other kids and I saw that. In my opinion, her skin tone was beautiful. My classmates failed to see that. When she entered the classroom, I would overhear people whisper, “There goes blackie”, or “How come she looks like that”. I would think to myself “Why are these kids being so cruel when we are all racially identical”.  Is it because she always has a fresh pair of shoes, a phone, and dresses nicely for school? They seemed to be so jealous of her. They gave her a lot of cruel nicknames. She would never let me speak up for her, even though I wanted to. The only feelings they are hurting are theirs”, she would say. Everyone still had a young mindset and was unaware of how cruel their statements were. I noticed that many people express hatred because they don’t have the same values and weren’t raised in a loving household. That results in them releasing their anger onto others not knowing how hurtful it is.

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My earliest memory of realizing that racial consciousness occurred was when I was in elementary school and learning about history. When we would discuss the topics of slavery and other parts that were entirely new to the brain I never would have noticed because I was so young. When we would go more in-depth about how slavery began and how much it affected how the world is today, I never would have opened my eyes so much to the world around me. When I had started learning more and more about the history I began to see more and more things that I never would have really understood. It was when I was in 5th grade I was a social butterfly. I loved making friends with everyone in my class not caring about what their race or diversity was. The more and more I became friends with people the more and more I realized who some people were not friends with. I remember hearing kids say "Don't be friends with "those" people" and I never would understand why. What did they mean by "those people"? Why couldn't others be friends with them? But that first lesson in history class was when my eyes really opened up and noticed how messed up it was. I was that person to be friends with them and make them feel like they belong here and that they are just like everyone else in the school. Because everyone is different in their own ways but that should not stop people from being friends with them.

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The situation that made me aware that racism does exist was back in grade school. I was ten years old, young and naïve. I had no idea people we're treated differently based on their skin color. The incident that made my mindset change was at a class party. This party was not on school grounds, it was at a neighborhood pool. I was super excited to swim with my class. I carpooled with my two best friends, and was having a great time. I remember a few girls were getting into a conversation about who does their schoolwork the fastest, one of my friends stated how the winner definitely wouldn't be Fatima because her race is "slow". I still remember the silence after the comment, I've never heard someone say something like that. I immediately registered that that comment was rude and that something needed to be done.
I didn't talk to her the rest of the party and I went home and had told my mom what had happened. She explained to me that people like that or not uncommon and racism is a scary thing in today's world. She taught me to always be kind no matter what others look like. We talked for a long time and she answered many of my questions, in the end we worked out what we were going to do about the incident that happened at the pool. My mom emailed the teacher and explained what had happened at the class party. The next class the teacher had pulled the girl out of the class to discuss her actions.
From that moment forward I've been aware of the cruel people that stereotype and are blatantly rude.

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The earliest memory that I have in which my racial consciousness was developed was when I started school. I grew up in an apartment complex that mostly only had Hispanic/Latino families; therefore, school was the first time I had ever been close to other races. This is off topic, I know  Hispanic/Latino is not a race, but I don't really identify with any of the given races; this is an issue that I struggle with. I often put "prefer not to answer" however, schools have labeled me as either American Indian or White. Back to the memory, I remember being very curious and observant of the wide range of different skin colors my classmates had. I had no stereotypes or any other thoughts besides the fact that they were born with a different skin color. At that age, I did not recognize racism; I just admired the different shades that we were. It was the same thing as different eye colors for me. Teachers would read books about accepting and embracing our differences. It wasn't until middle school where I began experiencing racism personally or as an observer. I guess some elementary schools did not cover race, or the students were impacted from their home environment. However, I remember being so shocked and hurt. It was during Trump's presidential campaign. In the halls, between classes, I would hear certain students yelling things like "yeah go back to your country" or "make America great again". I felt hated and I was hurting over the fact that it was simply because of where my parents where born. I believed their behavior was extremely unfair because no individual has control over what race or place they are born into. Instead of embracing our differences, at that time, I found myself wishing that we were all the same. I'm glad to say that has changed and that racist comments do not affect me as much. It makes my blood boil when I see other people being discriminated against.

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My earliest memory of realizing that race mattered was in 5th grade. The school I went to was predominantly white with few minorities. Some kids were making fun of a black student for how ashy they were. This led to a loud argument where the teacher had to be involved. At first, I didn't think much of it since kids tease each other all the time. Once I started paying more attention I realized these kids kept picking on the same kid for things like their hair and how dark they were. I talked to my parents about this after school and they informed me that these kids were picking on him because of his race. Prior to this, I had not been exposed to racism like this or at least I never realized it. It was an eye-opening experience that made me have racial consciousness moving forward.

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My earliest memory of race was when I was at the park with my dad, and I saw a beautiful black woman sitting with her child on a bench. I pointed her out and I said something along the lines of calling her a “chocolate woman.” My dad had pointed out that that was not okay to say, but I was a child and didn’t understand that the ord “chocolate” in this context was bad. I loved chocolate growing up, so I thought it was a compliment. Obviously now I would never say something like that.
I honestly have always known that race mattered, but in a sense of cultural background. I was raised to not identify someone by the color of their skin, but by their personality and the way they choose to live. I know that race is an important factor in the way people embrace their culture. I was always taught, and still continue to believe, that Jesus loves everyone no matter what.

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Growing up I looked nothing like the rest of my family. My skin was very dark, and my hair was thick and curly. Because of my appearance compared to my family. I always received questions about my race or ethnicity. Race played a huge role in life. I had kids attempting to make fun of me for being adopted when I was not when adoption is not funny in the first place. I think around the age of 4 or 5 my parents had a conversation with me describing to me what those comments really meant, and how no matter how anyone looks it does not make them any more or lesser than anyone. I was still treated differently, from other children, as well as adults. I never understood it. I knew that was not right not fair. As well as seeing other kids or adults being, mistreated by others. From a young age I have always thought everyone is important and beautiful no matter what.

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My earliest memory of realizing that race mattered was when I learned about it in school. When I was young in elementary school, my class did a unit about slavery, and that's when I realized that race was a big deal, or at least used to be a big deal. That was the first time I ever heard about segregation and racism. I didn't grow up in a house where racism was normal. My parents always taught me to treat others how I wanted to be treated. So I always looked at everyone equally, no matter their skin color or culture. I have always been that way ever since I was a child. I grew up in a religious household and have always believed in Jesus Christ, and he tells us to love and treat everyone equally. So my parents raised me based on those principles.

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One of my earliest memories about race that I experienced was in Pre-K. I am a first-generation Mexican-American. Both my parents immigrated from Mexico around 2001, so my first language was Spanish. I remember that one day when I was in school, I started choking on my food. Since it was fairly toward the beginning of the school-year, I did not speak much english and did not have many friends. I live in a predominately white area where it was very rare to see another hispanic kid. So when i was choking, I remember saying "ayuda" "ayuda"  which is "help" "help" and no one understood me. I guess as a kid i was very shocked to see no one noticed or run to help since the matter could've escalated, but eventually an another hispanic kid came in and saw me calling for help and ran to tell the teacher. Eventually, the teacher came and helped me. This is a memory that has always suck with me because I can still feel the fear I felt in the moment and the sadness that I was not like the other kids that spoke english or looked American.
After that, growing up, I would eventually get told "You are in America, speak english." I would get told that from kindergarten to when I graduated high school. At one point, I did want to lose my culture because I did not like being an outsider. But, eventually, I fell back in love with my roots and I am proud to be where I am from and be able to speak another language.

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While I'm sure race has always played a huge role in my life and the way I was treated, I wasn't really aware of it until the fifth grade. Before fourth grade, I went to a primarily white school as a black girl. I had majority white friends and only white teachers. I was aware of racial differences, but my friends never treated me any differently (that I could comprehend at such a young age), so I never worried about it. I moved to a way more diverse area my second semester of fourth grade, so starting school there was a bit of a culture shock. As I talked to more of the kids in my new class, I got very familiar with the phrase "white washed." After looking up what that meant, I thought a little bit deeper (as deep as a fourth grader could think about race) about why they would be calling me that. It hurt my feelings a bit at the time, but it forced me to get out of my little bubble and understand that race is a real issue.

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One of my earliest memories about race that I experienced was in elementary school, maybe in kindergarten, first, or second grade, when we learned about slavery and racism. The first thing I remember was it was terrifying to think that is how things were back in the day. The second I thought, I was glad it was over and was in the past. I remember telling my parents this, and they told me something more along the lines of it is not really something that is still in the past. I was very confused because, obviously, present times were not as I had seen it in the textbook. My parents explained that people of color, especially people of African descent, can still experience racism. Basically, racism and racial injustice just change to fit the times that we are living in. I remember this made me feel sad and that this was like a cycle that may never stop.

I think the experience gave me a sense of activism since that time. Issues of race and injustice of any kind have been vital to me. I saw how not only violent acts such as slavery or segregation could be harmful but also silencing or minimizing past and present indiscrimination. This includes a lesson we had in school, which suggested that racism was over, and I think that is negative for children to learn because that gives them a false sense of reality. It prevents them from being able to know what is happening in the world and looking for a way to actually stop racism. I have always hoped there would be a reality where children would not have to continue in this cycle.

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I remember race not being prevalent on my mind at all growing up. I grew up in a very diverse area. My school was a hybrid program full of families of different diversities, I practiced Lacrossse with the boys team at my local school (because they did not have a girls team) and the school actually has a lower percentage of white students then black and Indian students so I was very used to being in mixed racial setting and was very comfortable and happy there. It was not until I was at my church hanging out with a group of my guy friends. The church was predominantly white, and there was only one black guy in our group. The other boys started making jokes about his race, and I was uncomfortable and surprised that someone would single out this aspect of him. When I talked to him later he told me if bothered him but it was also just how the guys were. That was the first time I realised that I would never understand what my friends of difference races go through. I can try to listen and be there for them, but I cannot fix it and cannot understand.

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My earliest memory of realizing racism is real was when I was in middle school and hung out with kids that I new since kindergarten. We were all very close and lived in a neighborhood where everyone mostly had the same skin color. I grew up in a family that did not teach racism or prejudices so in my mind everyone was the same. Until, a new family moved into the neighborhood where they came from a different culture and background the boy and the family became my new best friend instantly and we hung out and even played baseball on the same team. At times I noticed he was sensitive to comments made in conversation and it made me realize that he was uncomfortable. I didn't realize at the time what that was all about but I do now and wish I had known more at the time to be more aware of his feelings. We are still best friends today and will be brothers always.

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In my younger days, I never experienced any racism problems with myself but I was one of those kids that was alert to a lot so I noticed a lot. In middle school, there was a new kid in my class named Sean. From day 1 of Sean being a new kid in school, he was bullied. Sean was bullied because he was not up to par like the most of the class. Sean didn't have the newest clothes, the newest shoes, and even his odor wasn't kept up causing him to be bullied often. Because of this, Sean couldn't gain friends. Even though everyone was bullying him, I wanted him to feel okay. One day I decided to comfort Sean because I was taught to never bully anyone because what they're lacking, I could be lacking tomorrow. What made this situation a race problem is because Sean was not the only guy like that in my class. There was an african american boy the same way and no-one ever seemed to pick on him. I wondered what made Sean stand out to everyone. Was it because he was new? Was it because of his race? Or was it both? This is when I realized race was a problem in this society and it doesn't have an age on where it starts.

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Race has played a huge part in my life in so many ways. I have noticed that some races get treated differently than other races. Some races might get treated fairly while other races have to go through it. Being african american I can see that sometimes we get treated differently just because of the color of our skin. Which is really sad if you think about it.  My earliest memory of when I realized race mattered was when I was in elementary school. There were students telling certain peers that they need to go back to their country. I know we are young and might think that was a joke, but it really is not. That hurts people and makes them feel like they are lower than everyone else. We still live in a world where people still say harsh things like this constantly. Some people just think it is okay to be racist. Hopefully one day we live in a world where we dont have to experience so much racism.

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My earliest memory of racism is from elementary school. When I was younger, I never really saw people as different even if they were different skin colors had different accents. I didn’t grow up in a household where that was talked about in a negative way. But some thing I remember from my first grade class was when I had a black teacher. One of the students made the comment about her being dirty and that she was poor. I was so confused when I heard that because obviously she didn’t look dirty and in my kid brain if you had a job were rich. My teacher handled it well because I’m sure she knows that children say things that they hear at home and she probably thought that that poor kid had no idea what he was talking about. There had been a couple instances with this boy calling her racial slurs, which I did not know at the time, and just giving her a hard time and I could definitely tell that he just didn’t like her. Now thinking back on it it’s crazy that parents speak this way around their children. It is also very sad that that kid has probably grown up to be just as nasty as his comments were when he was younger all because of his parents.

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My earliest memory of when I realized race mattered was in when I was about nine years old. I was in fourth grade and I had recently switched from a private academy to public school. For the first few weeks of school, my class's teacher asked each and every classmate to compete everyday in an ongoing reading contest. My teacher continuously matched us until the top two students were left, which was myself and the only African American student in the class. The competition results ended in a tie. I remember going to congratulate him after the announcement of the winners was released when I overheard a few of the other students whispering to each other about how he didn't deserve to be at the top of the class. They said he wasn't capable of reaching such a high academic level. In reality, he was smart enough to be considered for advanced placement, but he was never accepted. I realized later on that they judged him simply because of his skin color. Ever since then, I've continued to notice how others in society prefer to place judgment and stereotype people because of their race.

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Reflecting on my younger days, race was always apart of my life. I was born to a black mother and white father in 2004, when bi-racial couples were not very common or accepted. My family has always been diverse; on both my maternal and paternal side. Race was never a topic in our family because everyone was visibly different but we were family. I am a very pale-skinned person, and my mom is the complete opposite. My parents divorced two months after I was born and I lived with my mother. She was darker than me all my life, but it never meant anything to me. Until began school. I know that there were plenty of times when elementary school children would question me about my mother, but I honestly cannot remember it. And I think I have forced myself to forget. But the time I do remember was 6th grade. I went to a very unique middle school, where children were underprivileged and lacked numerous basic understandings. I recall there was a day my mom came to eat lunch with me because my friends loved my mom. After we all had a fun time eating, a boy in a different class came up to me. He asked me, "Are you adopted?". I was shocked by the question. I responded, "No, why would you ask that?". His response to me was: "You're white and your mom is black." I was shocked. Although I was only 11 years old, I understood the ignorance in his question. I remember crying about it when I got home. From that moment on I became aware that many people are ignorant to the fact that interracial couples and interracial children exist. We're normal. Even though it is painful to deal with, to this day, I am grateful to be apart of something that many people never get to experience or lack the understanding of. Sharing the experience with people and allowing them to gain knowledge of what people of different backgrounds experience helps me develop my racial consciousness.

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Reflecting on my earliest memory of when I realized that race mattered, I recall an incident from my childhood that left a lasting impact on me. I was around seven years old, attending a birthday party at a classmates house.

During a game of tag, I overheard another child say something hurtful to my friend, who was the only Black kid at the party. They said something rude pertaining to her skin color, and I saw her trying to brush it off with a smile, but I could sense her discomfort.

I remember feeling confused and upset by what I had heard. Up until that point, I hadn't paid much attention to differences in skin color or ethnicity. This incident opened my eyes to the fact that people were treated differently based on their race. It was a stark realization that race indeed mattered in how people were perceived and treated.

This experience sparked a curiosity within me to learn more about racial diversity and inequality. Over the years, I've grown to understand the importance of acknowledging these differences, standing up against discrimination, and striving for equality. That early memory remains a pivotal moment that ignited my journey towards developing a more comprehensive racial consciousness.

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My earliest memory of when I felt that race does matter is when I moved to the United States. This was my first time thinking of being a minority and being different from everyone else. I struggled not being able to understand English at all, and I sometimes felt like an outsider. I had multiple stereotypes of being an Asian. I felt belonged as time goes by, but race is still an issue that we face. Almost all the people I met accepted differences, but I also met people who did not. I am glad that I am at a college where there is diversity.

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Race has influenced my life in so many ways. Until this day I realized that people make decisions based off what racial group they belong to. I remember this day like it was yesterday, I was a senior in High School, and it was Black History Month. My economics teacher took about 30 minutes in the beginning of class to talk about Black History Month with the class. She presented us with a power point she made of her own. She was Asian, but I like how she was willingly able to talk about it this with the class as a whole. I remember everyone of different races was expressing their feelings and being able to agree to disagree with each other. However, the facts were the facts, and some students just couldn't handle the truth. I remember this one white guy student got furious with the entire class because what he was saying was just pointed toward one race. Also, the things he was saying was very nonfactual, mean, and harsh. It was so bad that the teacher had to interfere and tell him you can state how you feel, but I will not tolerate the disrespect in my classroom. We proceeded to talk about Black History Month, and he just became upset that he walked out of the class screaming at everyone and proceeding to slamming the classroom door. In the situation he had a hard time staying engaged and just let his emotions play a big part in how he reacted. This is the moment I realized that race mattered. I realized that racism was still evolving and that it still really exists. I realized that people weren't pressed about showing that they were racist. This was an upsetting moment for me, because I love all races and I'm always down to hear how everyone feels. It's best to be able to say, "I know, I know" instead of "I don't know, I don't know".

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When I was younger, my mom would watch the news while I got ready for school in the morning. Though my young mind was blind to a lot of the issues the news brought up, some things stood out that I picked up on overtime. When watching the news, I would often see unfair treatment of minority groups which developed my racial consciousness. The news painted the image that it was not as easy for minority groups to live everyday life as it was for me (a white girl). Minority groups fight a constant battle just to get through the day like everyone else. This discovery led me to pick up on this pattern everywhere I went, such as in school, which brings me to my earliest memory of when I realized that race mattered. I had a friend in middle school (black male) who I shared several classes with each semester. He and I would do classwork together, study together, and overall be high achievers in the course. Throughout my classes with him, I noticed differences in how the teacher would address his questions and needs. The teacher gave me thorough answers to my questions, offered my help outside of class, and took me seriously as a student. On the other hand, she treated him poorly while also giving him short and vague answers to his questions. Once I caught onto this pattern, I began to notice it in all my classes middle school through high school living in a predominantly white area. This made me realize that race mattered and determined how you are perceived by the world around you. Watching the news developed my racial consciousness, while my best friend made me realize race mattered.

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When I was younger, I did not think race caused people to stereotype and judge people based on their color. I thought the color of people's skin was just as normal as how not all our physical features are always the same. Going to an elementary school where many students and teachers were white and the people with colored skin were picked on more and judged before getting to know them, caused me to learn at a young age about race. Until once I got into elementary school surrounded by a diversity of students five days a week my racial consciousness was developed by seeing how some of my peers picked on and unintendedly treated others differently based on their race.   After seeing this and beginning to understand what I was seeing on television, I was able to put two and two together, realizing that the colors of our skin matter and beginning to develop my racial consciousness. The first memory I have was one time in elementary school when we were playing princesses on the playground and one of the other students wouldn’t ever let our African American friend play because she is because of the way she looked. She told her that her older sister told her there is not allowed to be a black princess in the game because no princess looks like her and told her she is only allowed to be her servant. This same friend told my colored friend that she was not allowed to invite her to her birthday party over the weekend because her mom said she is not the like her. This made me have questions. I came to the realization it was about the color of her skin and what her parents taught her about race. Until this connection of why people were treated differently based on race. This made me realize that people are treated (stereotyped and judged) differently based on the color of people's skin instead of their character. This moment helped to develop my views and share my thoughts. From this point on along with additional experiences good and bad has helped to develop consciousness. Being treated as someone out to get other people and seeing people fear to share their voices and feel others are out to get them has played a major role in the development of my racial consciousness.