The First Inauguration Of An African American

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Since I can remember, my family has reminded me that I can become whoever I want to become. Never did I think any different throughout my grade school and high school years. Teachers and administrations, alike, reiterated the possibilities that my family had instilled in me. Graduating high school a semester early, I believed all that I had been told. It was not until mass tragedy struck that I began to question if I could really become whoever I dared to become. In essence, society has and continues to shape my perception of what my future really can become. Witnessing the first inauguration of an African American on January 20, 2009, encouraged my belief that my future held endless avenues for success. At the young age of 13, I was excited to watch the milestone in which the African American race took pride. As I sat in my sixth-grade classroom watching the inauguration ceremony, we African American students were in awe of Beyonce 's flawless performance. Though we knew that history was made that day, we did not fully understand the importance of the milestone. All we knew is that an African American family would enter the White House for the first time. All we really knew is that we would watch and model after African American first daughters for the first time. Like the rest of the world, we saw the tears of older African Americans, but we could not fully understand those tears. We had only read about their fight for freedom; we never had to actually fight for it ourselves. To me, the look in my grandma 's eyes, the quiver invoice every time she spoke of President Obama only meant that she was overwhelmed by a victory she never thought she would see. Similar to Grandma, President Obama understood the signif... ... middle of paper ... ...oof, sat through entire church service before opening fire on innocent victims (Tauber 4). Roof 's trial was set for July 11, 2016, where he could face the death penalty. I grew up in the church believing that it is a place of love and forgiveness. This church shooting tainted my belief. Instead of feeling love and safety in my church sanctuary, I began to feel paranoid. I felt as though I had to watch who was coming in and out of the sanctuary. I eyed those who looked suspicious. I constantly checked my surrounding. I lost focus of what the sanctuary was for. No longer was I there praying for lost souls to be saved. I was in church services Sunday and Wednesday praying for safety. For a moment, I was not alone in this change, for churches began locking their doors and paying for extra security. It saddened me that society had forced this change on me.

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