Terri Cunningham

I grew up in a predominantly Black community in Dekalb County, Georgia. When my mother was laid off from her job as a secretary, she managed to find another job as an educator in Gwinnett County nearly an hour away from our home, and so, every morning, I woke up at four to make the drive to my new school and every afternoon we made the same drive back. I had come from a school where everyone looked, talked, and acted like me. In my new school, I was one of maybe two Blacks in my class. This was something I would have to learn to get used to as it would become the story of my life from that moment on.

This move dramatically changed my attitude toward myself, my community, and my race. They were all once aspects of my life that I adored, and in my new community, was ashamed of. Gwinnett County was a world away from Dekalb. It was clean, the houses were made of brick, the malls were huge, the grass was green, and the people were White, and I wasn't. Feelings of embarrasment, and inadequecy surfaced. I felt that I was underestimated for being Black and I began to try to disassociate myself. I worked too hard for my own age to prove myself capable despite my handicap, but, regardless, at the end of everyday, I had to leave Gwinnett to head back to Dekalb.

As I transitioned into adolescence, my attitude changed. It began with a book titled I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings and followed with The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I began to have pride in my race. I felt that I carried the face of it on my back. I was responsible for creating a good image for us, but regardless of how smart I tried to be, or how hard I tried to work, or how agreeable I tried to seem, I was always be penalized for the deeds of other Blacks. I was forever and will forever be ghetto, and while not personally, it is the face of my race, and so, therefore I am.

What I've learned now is that I am my own individual, but at the same time, I am Black and while I would like to say I am not like "the ratchet Blacks", I cannot disassociate myself because to do so would be to bring about those same feelings of shame I held before. This is who I am as a writer. I am a social commentator, and a Black revolutionary because I cannot be anything else.