I'm black and part of the LGBT. I have more 'respect' for my state than the country as a whole, and even that relationship is strenuous at best. The same forces that made me who I am were not nearly as kind to my family. Many of the people I grew up with in my neighborhood ended up in jail, or with a criminal record. Even my childhood best friend got in trouble with the law, and he was telling me about how half of his friends are in jail and the only way he can contact them is through an app. Hell, someone I went to college with sells drugs on the corner now.
While I was being underpaid at my non-profit job, I ended up at some black entrepreneur event in Manhattan, where I saw the same man that condemned those I grew up with on the news, bumbling his way through on a speech promoting black capitalism. That man was Eric Adams. I didn't sit there feeling proud that I was the one who 'made' it. It was a reality check about luck and opportunity. The place I was at didn't hire me, I guess because I wasn't already a senior developer, and a potential Trump presidency while in a black-owned startup is just bad news.
Just getting through college alone was difficult. But so was getting there -- got to some selective High School in Manhattan, ended up in an enrichment program based in Columbia University, had to take Saturday classes and stayed on campus for a month every summer, extracurriculars on Sundays... I'd go to school and be called an 'Oreo'. Mostly non-black folk gave me trouble for either being too black or not black enough.
God forbid I be unhappy about any of it. The Sandy Hook school shooting was very recent at the time, and any man too quiet was a target.
Even before that, my father was someone who was trying to have a stable life before the 2008 recession hit and he lost his job, as much as I love him, he was a man of many vices, drugs and alcohol. He got kicked out of public housing, and for me, it meant there was a custody battle on the way, one that lasted from the start of middle school to the end of high school. We got lucky that my grandmother was a respected elder of our church, and was able to live in the parsonage until he got back on his feet. We had to pay it back mostly with labor for the church.
It kept me and only some of my closest friends temporarily out of the streets, whether you hate the institution or not. Nowadays only the rodent-infested building remains, since we never managed to get enough money to pay for repairs post-Hurricane Sandy. The pastor that worked there also did some volunteer IT work at the local community center. He couldn't make a living traveling in and out of NY and had to return back to NJ with his wife.
That church tried renting out the building to other churches and programs. The AIDs Center of Queen's County once serviced the homeless there, but eventually left, either because they had made it a maintenance nightmare or they had no more use for that site. The clergy and congregation were dying. No more Sunday potlucks. No more summer camp. Much of the youth had been hounded so much by their parents to come out decent that they sought out marijuana and alcohol to escape them.
Now a new church is trying to obtain the building, attempting to kick my father out of the parsonage, as if he hasn't been maintaining the building long after the church has ceased operating.
His father was a WWII vet. He didn't get his GI Bill and ended up living in public housing, the same one I live in now where the police budget is 5x higher than the entire program and the buildings unmaintainable. My grandfather passed away while living in a trailer near a cotton field. away from the rest of the family. I only got to meet him once, and he was already blind in one eye by then. He was a truck driver after the war. He carried a knife on him all the time.
And I can't mention this to any employer. Its unprofessional.
Just as our country tries to kill DEI... I should just shut up and work harder.