You're born a black man dipped in melanin like it's a golden ticket, except the prizes and riches. It's inherited trauma, suspicious eyes, and a lifetime membership to the Don't Move too Fast club. People clutch their purses like you're armed with a gucci machete. There's no instruction manual for this life, just a history book soaked in blood and denial. You learn early that childhood is optional. Six years old, and someone's already calling you aggressive for raising your hand to passionately. By ten, you're a handful, while the white kid flipping a desk is spirited. You're the problem, even when you're just existing. Cops don't protect you. They patrol you. Sirens aren't safety. They're a warning label. Getting pulled over isn't an inconvenience. It's a near death meditation. You keep your hands visible, your voice steady, your breathing polite. You're auditioning for the role of nonthreatening civilian number one, and still, it might not save you. You learn quick that black X balance isn't ambition, it's armor. Average isn't allowed. Mediocrity is a luxury you can't afford. You run faster, smiled, bigger, speak cleaner, because one slip, and suddenly you're threatening ghetto or intimidating Mess up ones. And congratulations. You've become a walking stereotype. You walk, walk into a store and transform into a suspect on site. You walk out and someone's double checking the floor tiles. Say something intelligent and people act like you solved quantum physics. Wow, you're so articulate. Thanks. Should I bow now ? Or do I get a cookie with that condescension ? Work feels like a tight rope over lava. You code switch like your rent depends on it, because it does talk to casually and you're unprofessional to firm aggressive show up with your natural hair, and it's suddenly a distraction. So you cure it yourself like a museum exhibit with wi - fi now featuring our friendly neighborhood. Black man money doesn't buy freedom when the price egg comes with fine print. You finally make some and people act like you've escaped the system, as if generational wealth and generational trauma cancel each other out on a spreadsheet. You're told Just work hard, like hard work ever stopped redlining or wage gaps, like you can outhustled a history built to keep you tired. You grind twice as hard to earn half the benefit. And when you finally get a taste of success, someone calls it diversity Hiring You get the house, the car, the degree. And suddenly people forget how uneven the starting line was they see your wins, not the invisible tax. The extra energy it takes to smile through suspicion to be the safe version of yourself so you don't lose what you built. Every dollar feels like it came with a disclaimer, Congratulations, but don't forget where you came from. The wealth gap isn't just about numbers. It's about inheritance. Some families pass down property. Yours passes down mornings. They get trust funds. You get trust issues. Their granddad left them land. Yours left a survival guide. And when you do succeed, people suddenly treat you like a symbol, not a person. You're inspiring. Exceptional proof that anyone can make it. They hold you up like a trophy To deny the system you had to outrun. Because if you made it, that means racism must be solved, right ? No, It just means you figured out how to swim while handcuffed. Try talking about money in your community and it's complicated. You want to invest. But where banks that still deny your uncle's loan, developers who bulldozed your grandma's block. You want to build wealth. But gentrification means your old neighborhood can't afford your success story. You realize success doesn't protect you. It just changes the scenery. The security guard at the luxury store still follows you. The cop still runs your plates. The system doesn't Care what's in your wallet, just what's in your skin. They told you money can't buy happiness. They forgot to mention it can't buy safety either. On screen, your choices are thug, sidekick or tragedy. Survive fifteen minutes in a horror movie, and it's called representation The moment A show dares to portray black people, Just existing. Critics call it too urban because apparently dragons are relatable, but your reality, e. Two specific, Everyone loves black culture, just not black people. They'll borrow your rhythm, slang and swagger. Sell it back to you at Urban Outfitters, Then call your pain divisive. You speak up about racism, and suddenly you're too political. You share your reality and they ask, why make everything about Ray race ? Maybe because everything already is dating. That's it's own horror anthology. I've never been with a black guy before. They whisper like you're an exotic experiment. You're not like other black men, they say. Translation, You fit my prejudice. Share, believe, inspire blacks, be. You're born a black man dipped in melanin like it's a golden ticket, except the prizes and riches. It's inherited trauma, suspicious eyes, and a lifetime membership to the Don't Move too Fast club. People clutch their purses like you're armed with a gucci machete. There's no instruction manual for this life, just a history book soaked in blood and denial. You learn early that childhood is optional. Six years old, and someone's already calling you aggressive for raising your hand to passionately. By ten, you're a handful, while the white kid flipping a desk is spirited. You're the problem, even when you're just existing. Cops don't protect you. They patrol you. Sirens aren't safety. They're a warning label. Getting pulled over isn't an inconvenience. It's a near death meditation. You keep your hands visible, your voice steady, your breathing polite. You're auditioning for the role of nonthreatening civilian number one, and still, it might not save you. You learn quick that black X balance isn't ambition, it's armor. Average isn't allowed. Mediocrity is a luxury you can't afford. You run faster, smiled, bigger, speak cleaner, because one slip, and suddenly you're threatening ghetto or intimidating Mess up ones. And congratulations. You've become a walking stereotype. You walk, walk into a store and transform into a suspect on site. You walk out and someone's double checking the floor tiles. Say something intelligent and people act like you solved quantum physics. Wow, you're so articulate. Thanks. Should I bow now ? Or do I get a cookie with that condescension ? Work feels like a tight rope over lava. You code switch like your rent depends on it, because it does talk to casually and you're unprofessional to firm aggressive show up with your natural hair, and it's suddenly a distraction. So you cure it yourself like a museum exhibit with wi - fi now featuring our friendly neighborhood. Black man money doesn't buy freedom when the price egg comes with fine print. You finally make some and people act like you've escaped the system, as if generational wealth and generational trauma cancel each other out on a spreadsheet. You're told Just work hard, like hard work ever stopped redlining or wage gaps, like you can outhustled a history built to keep you tired. You grind twice as hard to earn half the benefit. And when you finally get a taste of success, someone calls it diversity Hiring You get the house, the car, the degree. And suddenly people forget how uneven the starting line was they see your wins, not the invisible tax. The extra energy it takes to smile through suspicion to be the safe version of yourself so you don't lose what you built. Every dollar feels like it came with a disclaimer, Congratulations, but don't forget where you came from. The wealth gap isn't just about numbers. It's about inheritance. Some families pass down property. Yours passes down mornings. They get trust funds. You get trust issues. Their granddad left them land. Yours left a survival guide. And when you do succeed, people suddenly treat you like a symbol, not a person. You're inspiring. Exceptional proof that anyone can make it. They hold you up like a trophy To deny the system you had to outrun. Because if you made it, that means racism must be solved, right ? No, It just means you figured out how to swim while handcuffed. Try talking about money in your community and it's complicated. You want to invest. But where banks that still deny your uncle's loan, developers who bulldozed your grandma's block. You want to build wealth. But gentrification means your old neighborhood can't afford your success story. You realize success doesn't protect you. It just changes the scenery. The security guard at the luxury store still follows you. The cop still runs your plates. The system doesn't Care what's in your wallet, just what's in your skin. They told you money can't buy happiness. They forgot to mention it can't buy safety either. On screen, your choices are thug, sidekick or tragedy. Survive fifteen minutes in a horror movie, and it's called representation The moment A show dares to portray black people, Just existing. Critics call it too urban because apparently dragons are relatable, but your reality, e. Two specific, Everyone loves black culture, just not black people. They'll borrow your rhythm, slang and swagger. Sell it back to you at Urban Outfitters, Then call your pain divisive. You speak up about racism, and suddenly you're too political. You share your reality and they ask, why make everything about Ray race ? Maybe because everything already is dating. That's it's own horror anthology. I've never been with a black guy before. They whisper like you're an exotic experiment. You're not like other black men, they say. Translation, You fit my prejudice. Share, believe, inspire blacks, be.