Today at the beach, we were rushed with vendors as usual, but the conversations they have with me are always different. Two guys who went by Raj, and Rainbow asked me where I was from. I told them that I was from Ohio in the United States, like Cleveland and Lebron. They understood, but then proceeded to ask me, “No, do you know where you are from” I took a second to think about and understand what they were asking. I understood, but I did not have an answer because I genuinely did not know. Before I could tell them that, they told me I was from here, Africa, and this will always be my home, my motherland. In that moment, I the feeling close to closure came over me. Not that I did not know I was African somewhere down my bloodline, but to actually be standing in Africa, being told this, by Africans was different. I didn’t know if this was something genuine or just some technique to get me to buy something but in that second it didn’t matter. It felt real.  I have no clue where my family traces back to or when they were even brought to the Americas. Until that moment on the beach, I felt like just as a minority as my white classmates. Until that moment I felt like I did not belong. Until that moment I had never been somewhere where I truly felt welcomed, somewhere where I felt I belonged.