![](https://trudiyoungtaylor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/blog102a.png)
As I watch this country, a country I chose to join, I am broken-hearted and scared. Our country is on the precipice of revolution during a time of a pandemic, stirring memories.
I remember watching my cousins grow up in Scotland. My Aunt Vicky married a Nigerian man and had three children. The oldest cousin was Charmaine, a model during the 60s. The middle cousin was Marcelina, a beautiful artist. The youngest cousin was Julian, a rugby player and professor of mathematics.
Each wrestled with racism in their own way.
![](https://trudiyoungtaylor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/blog103e-1.jpeg)
Charmaine tried to fit her brown skin into a white modeling world. The smell of her hair sizzling when she ironed it straight—for her career—intrudes whenever I do laundry. I hate ironing.
![](https://trudiyoungtaylor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/blog103d-2.jpeg)
Marcelina opted out. I can see it in her eyes. She bought her drugs at the base of Edinburgh castle. I don’t know what became of her.
![](https://trudiyoungtaylor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/blog102c.jpeg)
Julian fought racism in academia until he gave up. He moved to Jamaica with his wife in search of a safer place to raise their children. Whenever I do sums, I send a prayer, hoping he found what he was searching for. Another family member I’ve lost.
As a country, we stand to lose too much.
My heart goes out to every person struggling with their beliefs and actions during this time, but we must continue struggling.
![](https://trudiyoungtaylor.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/blog102b.jpeg)
Together, we will have strength for the journey away from the complacency of institutionalized racism and the status quo.
It will be difficult.
Let us take hands.
Beautiful piece. Important observations. Heart