I still remember the day I learned that I couldn’t take my blackness for granted.
I was around 11 years old, it was the first day of summer camp, and I was looking for friends. So I scanned the room and made a beeline for the only other kid with a Transformers lunchbox. His name was Rafi.
We started with the standard “get to know each other” questions; which Transformer was the coolest? Favourite ninja turtle? Could Batman win a fight against Spiderman? But something seemed to be bothering him. After a few minutes, in that way only 11-year-olds can, he spat it out.