Support and encouragement are found in the most unlikely places.

I remember feeling that pieces of me were scattered around the world; I belonged to her, Mother Earth.

I guess it all depends on whom you ask and when you ask. Race, I've learned, is in the eye of the beholder.

We aren’t encouraged to think for ourselves and ask questions. We are expected to accept what they teach us as infallible truths.

Our identities are as fluid as our personal experiences are diverse.

Nobody, she felt, understood her-not her mother, not her father, not her sister or brother, none of the girls or boys at school, nadie - except her man.

Foisting an identity on people rather than allowing them the freedom and space to create their own is shady.