This story initially appeared on Behind the Whistle, the official blog of the IWLCA, and is being republished with permission from the organization. Tatiana Samuel is an assistant coach at the University of the Cumberlands.

It was during quarantine that many people saw the growth of the Black Lives Matter movement. For many people, they finally saw the struggles we as Black people encounter every day. The list goes on and on, starting with police brutality, missed opportunities, hidden bias and racism. Although it’s crazy to think it took the whole country to shut down and a global pandemic for many to see what’s always been there, it’s great to see the conversation get started. However, we are seeing more people revert to the “normalcy” of turning a blind eye on racial issues.

One of the things I struggled with was trying to differentiate people, programs, companies, etc. who genuinely support the cause from those who were trying to be part of the trend or save themselves from potential defamation. The message of genuinely advocating for change must shine through, and the movement must get the support that it needs. I don’t have all the answers, nor do I know the right thing to do in every scenario, but I can offer some advice to help navigate the new “normal” that’s to come.

To the Black Athlete: Don’t be afraid to share your story and your experience. If you are passionate about informing others, act on it and don’t be silenced. People will rally behind you and support you. Continue to have uncomfortable conversations because that is what’s going to help bring about change.

To the Ally Athlete: Be there for your teammates and the friends who are fighting to bring about change. Don’t be afraid to stand up for them or correct people when they talk down to others or about them. If you are corrected, don’t take offense, instead say something along the lines of, “Thank you for letting me know; it won’t happen again.”

To the Coach: If an athlete comes to you to discuss how they feel towards diversity, inclusion or the BLM movement, don’t take it personally, don’t get defensive and know it is not an attack. They want to feel heard, understood and welcomed as a member of the program. Assure them that you want to listen to their perspective, make the necessary changes and be there for them.

When I tell people I was a collegiate athlete, they always say, “That’s amazing, what sport?” The expectation for someone like me is basketball, maybe track, but when I tell them lacrosse, the reaction is, “Really? Isn’t that a rich, white sport?” Yes, unfortunately, that is what it became. That’s the stigma around the sport, and it is one that people like me don’t fit. I’m not white and nor am I, or was I ever, rich. I only got into lacrosse because of the area I moved to when I was young and the people who gave me the tools and opportunities to play. Providing one opportunity can make an incredible difference in someone’s life.

If my parents hadn’t moved our family to a predominantly white area or my club coaches hadn’t given me the equipment to play, I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in today. I started playing basketball at the young age of 4 with the hopes of playing professionally overseas. It wasn’t until high school that I even heard about lacrosse. My teammate from basketball asked our team if anyone wanted to tryout for her club team and encouraged me to check it out. I went to one practice, they threw me into a game and then I was sold.

Now, I don’t know how, but some coaches reached out to me, and next thing you know, I’m part of an inaugural team at the Division II level for lacrosse. This team is where I met my first assistant coach, who opened the doors to my first coaching position. I would constantly ask to have her Nike lacrosse shirt every single time she wore it. She told me if I really wanted the shirt, I could earn my own by coaching at a Nike Camp, for which my response was happily, “Alright, bet, put me on.” At those camps, I met some of the best people who’ve helped me reach where I am today. Entering my senior year, I realized I wasn’t done with the lacrosse world yet and was just getting started. After many calls and a few interviews, I got the opportunity to be a graduate assistant coach. It has been the best journey so far, and I can’t wait for what’s next! I am one of the lucky ones. I was given the opportunity to play at the collegiate level, earn enough scholarship and earn my degree.

However, it wasn’t always smooth sailing. I want to clarify that everyone’s experience is different, and everyone has their own story. This is only part of mine. Being one of the very few biracial kids on a team or in a classroom was different. Growing up, I didn’t fit in with the Black kids, and I didn’t fit in with the Hispanic kids. It is challenging to be a new member of something when you don’t fit the majority. It is even more difficult when you don’t fully fit your group, so when it comes to finding your people, imagine how it must feel when your differences are pointed out. The occasional phrases, “You’re actually really nice,” or, “You’re different,” as compliments from white peers seemed to draw the question: What does that really mean?

Throughout my four years in college, my team had only five other people of color. Granted, that is more than what most teams have at the collegiate level, but it was constantly noted that we had “so much diversity” on the team. When the team’s percentage was nowhere near double digits, and most of the “diverse” players were from the same recruiting class, there wasn’t “so much diversity.” Being told that our team was diverse when there were only really two other players that somewhat resembled me was bothersome. I had to keep that to myself to avoid being the “mean” teammate with an “attitude.” Times when I told teammates they were out of line for saying something racist or singing the n-word in a song, the response was, “It’s just a joke” or, “It’s just a song.” Or even when the topic of race or inclusion was presented in a conversation, others would get defensive and say things like, “I don’t see color,” “You’re overreacting,” or, “You’re looking into things.” That created a feeling of being misunderstood and not seen. Just because I’m not entirely one or the other, I’m still Black, and I’m still Hispanic.

Thanks to quarantine and social distancing, I realized once again why I wanted to become a coach in the first place: To give others the opportunities to succeed, get an education and love lacrosse just like I was able to; and seeing younger athletes that look like me to want to become a part of the lacrosse community and inspire them to thrive in it. Reaching their full potential both on and off the field is something I want to help others achieve. I want to fade away the stereotype of lacrosse being a “rich, white sport,” and celebrate its heritage and increase diversity.

To get more diverse players in the game, we need to give everyone an opportunity, connect them to resources, provide access and continue fighting for equality. If this blog post can help open eyes, get a conversation started, or inspire change, thank you to the IWLCA for giving me this opportunity to express my thoughts and views.

To EVERYONE: Be understanding. Be open to conversation and open to learning. Do your research and be open-minded. Be able to adapt and roll with the punches. Be ready for change and accept the change that will come about as a result of both Black Lives Matter and the COVID-19 pandemic. The only way we will create positive change will be to continue to have the tough conversations, listen to, understand, share our stories, recognize our hidden biases and work to detach from bias with mindfulness. Practice self-love, support and don’t be afraid to reach out to others. Also, take a minute to care for yourself, your mental health and your emotional health. We are all learning, adjusting and trying to get ready for our new normal. There’s a long journey ahead of us, and things aren’t going to change overnight, but it’ll be worth it.

The time for action is now!