When I went through the exhibit I felt as if it was a flashback to black history. I was not happy nor was I sad because of some the things I saw were heartbreaking, joyful painful, angry, proud, and much, much more. One of the flashbacks were when I saw Tupac one the most successful musician and film actors. But it’s just Tupac, eventually dying in 1996 from gunshot wounds. Now, that was one of my worst tragedies. Or another when I saw Rosa Parks get finger printed because she decided to not give up her seat on the bus after a long, tiresome day of work. People such as these that make us sit in one room with whites or shake a hand of a white person.