A/N: Discrimination is still a major problem in our world even today. People treat others differently just because they aren't like you.

This fanfiction doesn't just go out to African Americans, although February is Black History month. This goes out to anyone and everyone who has been made fun of, left out, or discriminated because of their differences. When we make fun of someone, you are negatively affecting a human being. That person will feel weird, out of place, or socially unacceptable just because people place themselves above others.

In the following fanfiction, you see the physical and psychological effects bullying, racism, and discrimination has on these heroes. They may be different, but they are not worthless.

Nobody is a troq.

"There will always be people who say mean words because you are different, and sometimes their minds cannot be changed. But there are many more people who do not judge others based on how they look or where they are from. Those are the people whose words truly matter." -Starfire

We watched as Val Yor left Earth in his spaceship. At first we admired him. He's a brave warrior that protected his home world and the worlds of others. At first we looked up to him. He's very skilled in combat and a great pilot. At first we respected him. He seemed like a great man, both on the outside and the inside.

At first we thought he respected all of us.

When Starfire told me what was really happening, I felt enraged. Val Yor had no right to talk that way about her. He had no right to call her a troq. To call her a nothing. To call her worthless. I told the rest of the team about Val Yor's racism against Starfire for being a Tameranean. Each reacted differently to the shocking new, but all-in-all, Val Yor lost our respect.

I could tell that even after Starfire saved his life, Val Yor still wasn't going to stop his crude racism towards Tameranians or whoever else he thought was inferior to him. It made me realize that this just wasn't happening to me in the team. I'm a six-foot-tall half robot African American high school dropout! If anyone on the team had to be judged on their appearances, it would have been me. But to my shock, it was Starfire: The sweet, caring, beautiful, powerful, friendly, innocent alien girl. She didn't deserve that grief. Not at all.

This whole experience brought up a repressed memory I had suppressed years ago.

I would walk home from school every day with my best friend, Marcus Spiker. He was a pretty cool kid. He never bullied, and although he knew my parents had a lot of money, he only borrowed small amounts from me sparingly and always paid me back the next day. He liked skateboarding and rap music. I preferred football and jazz music, but we still got along very well.

Marcus and I always walked to his house first after school, since he lived closer to the school than me. The first day it happened, it was a cool autumn afternoon. The leaves on the trees were beginning to color, but there weren't enough leaves on the ground to bother raking yet. We were starting as freshmen in high school, and my fifteenth birthday was coming up.

We were walking down a road near Marcus's house. I don't remember too much of the conversation that preceded the event, but I was sure it had something to do with a hard Algebra test coming up.

We stopped at Marc's house.

"See ya, Vic," he waved and walked up to his door.

"Later, M-Spike!" I came up with that nickname for him in the seventh grade during P.E. He didn't like it at first, but now he tolerates the nickname.

I smiled mischievously at the memory and walked away from his place. My house was several large blocks away from his, but it was even farther from the school. My parents wanted me to take the school bus, since they had a problem of me walking that distance, but I convinced them to let me walk home. I couldn't stand to sit near those bratty sixth and seventh grade kids on the bus anyway.

"Hey, you there!" An angry voice shouted. Alarmed, I turned back to see a teenager approaching me. I recognized him from high school, but I couldn't place a name. He was either a junior or a senior, and he was on the Jump City High School football team. While I was already tall for my age, this guy was still taller than me by at least a head. "Freshie! Yeah, you!"

He stood a few feet from me. From the venomous anger dripping from his voice, I knew this wouldn't be good, but my legs were frozen at the spot.

"What are you doing here, huh, kid? Did you steal something?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Why would you think that?"

The kid pointed back at Marcus's house, which was far away from both of us now, "You were with him, and when he left, you just had that stupid smug look on your face; I knew you did something. Whatever you stole, hand it back."

"Marcus is my friend! I didn't steal anything from him!"

"Bullshit!" The kid stepped closer to me and grabbed the front of my shirt. My eyes widened at him in fear, and I could feel my heart beating uncontrollably fast. "Hand it over, Negro."

Even though Starfire had made peace with herself after the whole ordeal, I still wanted to talk to her. I wanted to let her know she's not alone. That I understood her more than she'll ever realize. After everyone turned in for the night, I knocked on her door.

"You may enter," she called. I opened the door and found Starfire still in uniform. She had her boots off and was painting her toenails with purple nail polish. I could smell it from here. She looked up at me, almost surprised. I guess it was because I don't visit Starfire's room too often. "Cyborg?" She put her nail polish up. "Is everything the alright?"

She had read my hardened expression, so I softened it, "Yes, everything's just fine. I just wanted to talk. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," Starfire pulled out a second chair that matched the one she was sitting in. The chair, like everything else in this room, gave me the feeling that I was at a little girl's tea party. "What would you like to talk about?"

I eased myself into the chair, half hoping I wouldn't break it with my weight. "I just wanted to see if you're okay... after what happened today."

She looked at me curiously, "But didn't we already discuss the mean word Val Yor said to me?"

"Yes, we did," I replied, "but I want you to understand that what happened to you happens on Earth too. There are many people who were not just called names, but were also hurt and killed because they were different."

Starfire nodded, "Yes, similar events have happened on my planet. On Tameran, my people have judged other Tamerans based on their hair and eye color. My mother and sister have dark hair and dark eyes, and because of that, they were considered inferior to Tameraneans with red hair and green eyes."

My eyes widened at this. During our time on Tameran, and during our encounters with Blackfire, Starfire has never once mentioned this to any of us.

"On Earth, humans are discriminated for more things than just hair and eye color," I said.

"You have told me that you were judged by being half robot. Is that what you mean?"

I sighed and looked at her seriously. Now's the hard part, "Not exactly, Star. Yes, before joining the team, people were scared of me because of my robot parts. That still happens every now and then, but not so often anymore. You may not know it, Starfire, but before I became a cyborg, I have also been judged by the color of my skin."

Starfire took a sharp intake of breath, "Your... skin color? But I have seen many people on Earth with a range of skin colors, and your's is very common."

"I know it is, but... How should I put this?" I asked to myself. I shifted uncomfortably. "There is a form of prejudice on Earth called racism. It's when you're discriminated for having a different skin color or national orientation. For example, Val Yor discriminated against you because of your race. And he shouldn't have, because it's wrong."

Starfire gasped, "But that's two different things! I was called a troq for being a Tameranean when he wasn't. You are human! You are of the same race as all other humans! Why would they be mean to you for that?!"

"You're right, Starfire," I agreed. "I am human. I am of the same race as every other human on Earth. Race doesn't really exist in humanity. It's just something imaginary created by humans to decide which of us is superior and which of us is inferior. It's been going on throughout human history, and it still exists today. America has an ugly past of discrimination against many people, most infamously black people, which is what I am. Although, I would prefer the term 'African American', meaning I'm an African descendant, but I was born in America."

"It's still wrong," Starfire pointed out. She put her boots back on, feeling her toe nails had dried. "All of us have different colors of the skin, especially within our team. I can't imagine for a second it would define how you should be treated."

"But it happens anyway. I've been called a horrible name because of my skin color, like you have been called a troq for being of a different alien race."

Starfire placed her hands on her lap, "If you do not mind me asking, what were you called? I promise I will not repeat it."

I shivered at the memory, but I answered anyway, "I was called a 'negro', Starfire. Back in the days of early America- even before it became a country, Europeans, or Caucasians, meaning 'white people', would take black people from Africa and make them slaves in North and South America. Most African and African American slaves suffered harsh treatment from their masters. 'Negro' was the term for us back then. Even after slavery in America was banned, African Americans were still heavily segregated. Mainly in the southern states of the U.S. For years, we were denied our basic rights for voting and equal education. They made us sit in the back of the bus, and they put the needs of the whites before us. We were called 'colored people', 'blacks', and 'negros'.

"Even way back in time during Ancient Greece, the Greeks conquered some parts of Africa and killed many Africans. While the Spanish word for negro means 'black', in Greek the word means 'dead'."

"So, you were called 'dead black'?" she asked.

Well, that's one way of putting it, I thought. "Pretty much, yeah. It was also a term for slaves back then, so he could have been calling me a slave too."

"You are not a slave," Starfire frowned. "You are not any of those things. You are strong and caring and intelligent. And you always do the kicking of the butt with Beast Boy during the game of videos. You are a great friend, Cyborg. You do not deserve such hardships."

"I could say the same for you," I added. I turned my head to the side and stared at the pink wall pensively.

The kid had already punched me twice and thrown my book bag away from my reach. I didn't know if the better option was to run or fight back, but I had no clue how far it would go if I continued to let him beat me like this.

He brought his foot to my chest and kicked me down. I rolled over on the sidewalk and ran for my book bag, but he grabbed my hood and pulled me back before I could. I nearly choked as the circulation was temporarily cut from my throat. He put my hands behind my back and shoved me on the cement with enough force to leave bruises.

"Hand it over, Negro!" He repeated.

"Stop it!" I begged. "I didn't- AH!" I was kicked in the stomach. I felt the kid dig into my sweatshirt pocket. The only things he would find there would be my phone and wallet. Having rich parents, I naturally had a high allowance. He wouldn't believe it if I told him I haven't stolen any of it.

I was so focused on the pain, I nearly missed the sound of hurried footsteps approaching us. The kid's hand left my pocket, with my phone and wallet still in there. I looked up to see Marcus and his father. Mr. Spiker was holding the kid that attacked me.

"Victor?" Mr. Spiker asked. "Victor, are you alright?"

Marcus held out his hand, "Vic?"

"Cyborg?" I jerked my head back at Starfire. She looked worried of me. I didn't mean to zone out like that. That just happened.

"Sorry, Starfire. I was just thinking," I replied. It calmed her, somewhat. I thought of how to cheer her up more. "Don't be so sad, Star. Although racial slurs are still being used in America, African Americans are today provided with the same treatment and rights as European Americans. Over the course of our history, we have had many influential people who changed our country that were African American. There's Harriet Tubman, a spy for the North during the Civil War, Martin Luther King Jr, a famous speaker against segregation, and there's Barack Obama, our first African American president."

I continued the list of famous African Americans, "There's Louis Armstrong, Rosa Parks, Sojourner Truth, Michael Jackson, Magic Johnson... umm... Oh! Morgan Freeman, Will Smith, Beyonce... um... What's the name of that author? Web something? Oh, W. E. B. Du Bois! That's right. So, you see, Starfire, there are a lot of famous African Americans. And there are black superheroes too, like Hot Spot, Green Lantern, Bumblebee, The Herald-"

"And you," Starfire smiled.

I beamed, "Yeah, and me."

"I am glad that people like you are not treated so harshly today, Cyborg."

My smile faded, "I wouldn't say that, Star. It may be illegal in America today, but that doesn't stop those racist people out there from hurting us. And it's just not African Americans either. Asians, Hispanics, Christians, Jews, Muslims, homosexuals, you name it. All over the world and throughout human history, people are made fun of, hurt, or even killed for being different. I hate it."

"I do not like it, either," Starfire said, shaking her head. She looked up at me, "Those people who say mean things to you shouldn't matter to you. There are many more people who won't judge you based on differences. Those are the people whose words truly matter."

I remember her saying something similar earlier today, right as Val Yor's spaceship flew off. It also reminded me of something said from years before.

The police came over and arrested the boy that attacked me. Mr. Spiker called my parents and drove me to the hospital. I had only suffered several contusions on my torso, a split lip, and a minor concussion.

Mom, Dad, and Marcus were in the hospital room, where I told them the whole story of my encounter.

"That was horrible and extremely racist of that young man!" Mom ranted. "Your father and I will assure you he will get the justice he deserves."

"And he had no idea who he was messing with," Dad added. "No one messes with a Stone, son, or he'll get the boulder."

I chuckled and sat up on my hospital bed. My sides didn't hurt so much anymore. My laugh died as I thought of something, "Dad?"

"Hmm?" He looked up at me.

"Why did he do that to me?" I asked. "He just assumed I stole, and he called me a negro. I didn't think there were still people like him in California."

Dad sighed, "Unfortunately, Victor, not everyone will be as friendly as most people you usually come across. I'm not sure if he did that to you because he really thinks African Americans are inferior, or if he was finding an excuse to bully you, but it was wrong. He shouldn't have placed that stereotype on you, and he shouldn't have called you that. Lucky for you, you have a great friend to look out for you."

I smiled and turned to Marcus, who has been leaning against the white wall by my bed with his arms folded, "Thanks, man. I owe you one." I held out my fist, and we fistbumped.

"No problem, Vic. Just don't scare me like that again," he said in concern. "And don't listen to any of that sh-" Marcus glanced at my parents, "-crap. That jerk doesn't matter. Most people aren't like that. And those who are can go f-"

"Marcus Spiker!" Mom yelled forcefully at him.

He tried again, "Well, you get my point."

"I think that what Marcus is trying to say," Dad interrupted, "is that there are many people who won't judge you on your appearance, and those are the people who should matter."

I found myself smiling, "I couldn't agree more, Starfire. Nobody is a troq."

She smiled back at me, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. This talk has not only helped Starfire, but also me. This whole day reminded me that I'm not alone. And when I think of my team, I realize that we're all vastly different, but it's our differences that connect us. Race and gender have nothing to do with our friendship. Together, we make a compatible team, and we create a friendship so strong, not even time can break it.

I stare out my window to gaze at the night sky. I miss Marcus so much. I have tried not to think about him since the accident, but me helping Starfire only brought back those memories. I decided to turn in for the night. I laid down on my metal bed to charge. Tomorrow will be a new day, and I'll treat it like one, just like all the days before. But I'll keep those memories in the back of my mind, to remind myself that the world isn't a perfect place.

But if I keep going out there, and we keep stopping criminals, then at least we can provide the illusion of what a perfect place can be.

A/N: How do you like it? Sorry for posting this on the last day of the month. I came up with the idea for this very recently. And good job for those of you that caught that Son of Batman reference.