I remember sitting in my dorm room as I tried to finish my story. I was in my senior year in college and I was in the second semester of a journalism class at Michigan State that gives J-students real-world experience as reporters for newspapers and radio stations throughout Michigan.

It was always difficult, worked hard to make surethe story was correct. I had my notes out in front of me as typed, flipping the notepad back and forth to check over and over. It was so hard to remember what was said. Did I remember that quote correctly?

I loved writing a story and still do. But as I look back to that memory of me sitting in my dorm room on a spring day in 1991, I can remember how much of a chore it was to write. It took forever to write that story. Frankly…

Writer’s Note (January 10, 2021): I wrote this story nearly five years ago in the middle of a job search. I’m in the middle of another job search and I can tell you that things haven’t changed much.

There is a hesitancy on my part about sharing this because I don’t want to complain and I know that race is not as big a factor as it was say 50 years ago. I still want to believe that my skills will speak for themselves. However, discrimination still exists and it would be wrong to not share that gaining good employment is still a challenge for African Americans.

My dad, who passed away in early 2015, once told me a story about looking for work. Dad moved to Michigan in the early 50s to find work in the auto plants, but before he did that, he and some relatives drove from…