But we always had that bond, you know the one that was formed with a flashlight under the covers when we should have been sleeping, but instead reading the liner notes on the latest Prince album.
Unwanted petting of my hair, trying to put stuff in it, presumptuous questions, all were seemingly friendly and joking acts, but I could tell they were a subtle form of ridicule.
Everyday that I shop and work and speak and travel and read and exist quite happily with this gorgeous head of hair, I defy the stereotype that I have to conform to a certain standard of beauty.
It was a Louis Vuitton Kusama pop-up store – one of only six in the world. And here we were in Paris for the launch of the limited edition collection. It was fate.
So my hoodie is up for Trayvon Martin and for all the brown boys who are watched when they enter the store or take a short-cut through another neighborhood.