I was scrolling through Facebook last night before I went to bed—something I tell myself not to do and often end up doing anyway. This post, from a friend of mine who is a fabulous, run-of-the-mill, small town, midwestern-raised, dynamic, smart, sassy and all kinds of nationalities woman, was the last post I read before I went to sleep: “I’m trying to remember the first time I was told to go back to Africa. It’s happened so many times in my lifetime, that I actually can’t recall. But I do know this – the first time I heard it, I knew exactly what the speaker was saying to me and…