Racial Isolation Quotes

I grew up in a small town in a low-income family and was the only black kid in my elementary school. I felt like an outsider, and since I didn't know of LGBT people - much less LGBT black women - living happy, healthy, and successful lives, I didn't believe I could ever marry or have a child.

I was the only black girl at my junior high school. I had an afro, a Jamaican accent, I looked really old.

I was born in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1969, in a time and place where no one was saying, 'Look how far we've come,' because we hadn't come very far, to say the least. Although Jackson's population was half white and half black, I didn't have a single black friend or a black neighbor or even a black person in my school.

Obama reminds me of the black kid at a white school that don't nobody want to play with.

Chicago's one of the most segregated cities in America. Everybody lives in their own silos and vacuums.

Our political establishment refuses to use the word 'segregated.' They call the schools diverse, which means half black, half Hispanic, and maybe two white kids and three Asians. 'Diverse' has become a synonym for 'segregated.'

Growing up in New Orleans, I was always the only black kid, or one of two, on the school soccer team. While I was always conscious of this status, what took precedent was my unfettered love of the game.

Television, I'm afraid, has isolated us more than race, class, or ethnicity.

The separating of a section of America for Afro- Americans is similar to expecting a heaven in the sky somewhere after you die.

Federal, state and municipal policies have isolated many children, especially in urban districts, into schools that are segregated by race, class and income.

Growing up in a school that was majority white, my understanding of the world was that I was different but that differences shouldn't be talked about because it's uncomfortable.

Growing up as an Asian American in this society, there were a lot of times where you feel isolated or out of place as an Asian. And growing up in White America, that's absolutely my experience. And I think that's why I got into acting because I wanted to be anybody else but Asian.

I don’t have a white community; that doesn’t exist in Detroit. We are surrounded by 80 percent white suburbs.

In the '90s, I was the only kid around that looked like me.

Most whites live, grow, play, learn, love, work and die primarily in social and geographic racial segregation. Yet, our society does not teach us to see this as a loss. Pause for a moment and consider the magnitude of this message: We lose nothing of value by having no cross-racial relationships.

I have Jewish friends. I have Middle Eastern friends. I have Spanish and Italian and British and Scottish and German friends and Austrian friends, and guess what? They all deal with homophobia. It's an earthling epidemic; it's not isolated in the black community.

The segregation of the races and the racial integrity of each race.

I grew up basically in a predominantly, you know, white community and I was mixed but as a kid you don't know that. So I was always different, always stood out and people would always make fun of me.

I'm used to being the only black guy. I've seriously walked onstage, looked out in the audience, 15,000 people - and I'm the only one in the place. It's no big deal. My whole career's been like that.

I never identified with anybody. I have always been very sensitive about my color, because everybody called me 'yellow gal.' I was caught in between both sides - nobody wanted me. I love that my audience is there, but I always feel as though I have to fend for myself.

You got black people in an all-white country and they don't know nothing about themselves.

In Stamps the segregation was so complete that most Black children didn't really, absolutely know what whites looked like.

The only black folks in town when I was growing up were me and my cousins and one other family.

We were the only black family in an estate with 1,000 white families. Liverpool being quite racist in the Sixties, it was a bit grim growing up.

Growing up, I was confused about my identity: I felt like I wasn't black enough to be black, but not white enough to be white.