I thought I was being sensitive...

My husband lovingly jokes that I am very militant. I wouldn't say militant, I would say sensitive. I am very sensitive to the fact that there are only 14 black students in my class. I do feel a slight tightening in my stomach when we talk about African Americans in class. I do not know if that is a simple reaction to listening to a person talk so authoritatively about a culture that they have never been a part of or that I feel like they are making subliminal messages that are creating bias in the minds of my classmates. I sometimes wonder if it would be better if to have lived back in the '40s or '50s at least racism was overt and not subliminal or whispered about amongst friends. I like knowing where people stand. If you have issues with me because I am black, or certain preconceptions about me because I am as tan as you try and get at the salon/beach, let me know. And please do not insult my intelligence and tell me that racism does not exist. Somedays it is just more conspicuous than others. I see it everyday. I feel it everyday. I can't talk about it because then I might be misunderstood and become isolated from my peers. I feel like I have to be on time and I have to be top of my class because I don't want to be the token black that is always late and struggling to keep up with the material. So no matter what people try to close their eyes to, or insist does not exist, I see it. I see and I feel racism every moment of every day.