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What's the point of having a voice if you're gonna be silent in those moments you shouldn't be?.

At an early age I learned that people make mistakes, and you have to decide if their mistakes are bigger than your love for them.

Brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you go on even though you're scared.

That's the problem. We let people say stuff, and they say it so much that it becomes okay to them and normal for us. What's the point of having a voice if you're gonna be silent in those moments you shouldn't be?.

I can't change where I come from or what I've been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?.

Once upon a time there was a hazel-eyed boy with dimples. I called him Khalil. The world called him a thug. He lived, but not nearly long enough, and for the rest of my life I'll remember how he died. Fairy tale? No. But I'm not giving up on a better ending.

Pac said Thug Life stood for 'The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody'.

I’ve seen it happen over and over again: a black person gets killed just for being black, and all hell breaks loose. I’ve tweeted RIP hashtags, reblogged pictures on Tumblr, and signed every petition out there. I always said that if I saw it happen to somebody, I would have the loudest voice, making sure the world knew what went down. Now I am that person, and I’m too afraid to speak.

Intentions always look better on paper than in reality.

People like us in situations like this become hashtags, but they rarely get justice. I think we all wait for that one time though, that one time when it ends right.

Good-byes hurt the most when the other person’s already gone.

Daddy once told me there's a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn't stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there's nothing more dangerous than when that rage is activated.

People say misery loves company, but I think it’s like that with anger too.

Don’t let them put words in your mouth. God gave you a brain. You don’t need theirs.

Holy shit. Who the fuck complains about going to Harry Potter World? Or Butter Beer? Or wands?.

Funerals aren’t for dead people. They’re for the living.

When you fight, you put yourself out there, not caring who you hurt or if you'll get hurt.

If bravery is a medical condition, everybody's misdiagnosed me.

Funny how it works with white kids though. It’s dope to be black until it’s hard to be black.

Khalil, I'll never forget. I'll never give up. I'll never be quiet. I promise.

Something to live for, something to die for.

This is exactly what They expect you to do," Momma says. They with a capital T. There's Them and then there's Us. Sometimes They look like Us and don't recognize They are Us.

You still got that old laptop? The one you had before we bought you that expensive-ass fruit one?" I laugh. "It's an Apple MacBook, Daddy." "It damn sure wasn't the price of an apple. Anyway, you got the old one?.

I’ve taught myself to speak with two different voices and only say certain things around certain people. I’ve mastered it.

And at the end of the day, you don’t kill someone for opening a car door. If you do, you shouldn’t be a cop.

You need Saturday to recover and Sunday to repent.

The truth casts a shadow over the kitchen—people like us in situations like this become hashtags, but they rarely get justice. I think we all wait for that one time though, that one time when it ends right.

People are realizing and shouting and marching and demanding. They’re not forgetting. I think that’s the most important part.

He got a tan over break. I used to tell him he was so pale he looked like a marshmallow. He hated that I compared him to food. I told him that's what he got for calling me caramel. It shut him up.

What is Tumblr anyway? Is it like Facebook?" "No, and you're forbidden to get one. No parents allowed. You guys already took over Facebook.

I hope none of them ask about my spring break. They went to Taipei, the Bahamas, Harry Potter World. I stayed in the hood and saw a cop kill my friend.

Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared, Starr," she says. "It means you go on even though you’re scared. And you’re doing that.

Once upon a time there was a hazel-eyed boy with dimples. I called him Khalil. The world called him a thug.

DeVante’s got a point. What makes his name or our names any less normal than yours? Who or what defines ‘normal’ to you? If my pops were here, he’d say you’ve fallen into the trap of the white standard.

looked me in the eye and, said, ' Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

That's the hate they're giving us, baby, a system designed against us. That's Thug Life.

God gave you a brain. You don't need theirs.

My two worlds just collided. Surprisingly, everything's all right.

Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is never stop doing right.

I never know which Starr I should be. I can use some slang, but not too much slang, some attitude, but not too much attitude, so I’m not a 'sassy black girl.' I have to watch what I say and how I say it, but I can’t sound 'white.

I hate that I let myself fall into that mind-set of trying to rationalize his death. And at the end of the day, you don’t kill someone for opening a car door.

But I realize that being real ain't got anything to do with where you live.

They act like I’m the official representative of the black race and they owe me an explanation. I think I understand though. If I sit out a protest, I’m making a statement, but if they sit out a protest, they look racist.

I don't have to wait around for her to change. I can let go.

It's like a 'Fragile' sticker's on my forehead, and instead of taking a chance and saying something that might break me, they'd rather say nothing at all. But the silence is worst.

I'll never forget. I'll never give up. I'll never be quiet. I promise.

So you down to hang out with your old man today or what?.

You have to decide if the relationship is worth salvaging. Make a list of the good stuff, then made a list of the bad stuff. If one outweighs the other, then you know what you gotta do. Trust me, that method hasn't failed me yet. . . . What if the good doesn't outweigh the bad? . . . Then let her go. And if you keep her in your life and she keeps doing the bad, let her go.

But I'm tired of them just assuming.

You got folks like Brenda, who think they need them to survive, and then you got the Khalils, who think they need to sell them to survive. The Brendas can’t get jobs unless they’re clean, and they can’t pay for rehab unless they got jobs. When the Khalils get arrested for selling drugs, they either spend most of their life in prison, another billion-dollar industry, or they have a hard time getting a real job and probably start selling drugs again. That’s the hate they’re giving us, baby, a system designed against us. That’s Thug Life.

Hoedom is universal.

That might be the problem. A lot of the good stuff is from the past. The Jonas Brothers, High School Musical, our shared grief. Our friendship is based on memories. What do we have now?.