If you’re interested in sharing your opinion on any cultural, political or personal topic, create an  account here  and check out our  how-to post  to learn more. Opinions are the writer’s own and not those of Blavity's. ____ As a child growing up in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s in a predominantly Black neighborhood in Dallas, I had what I thought was a relatively normal childhood. Before I was even a teenager, I was mixing margaritas for my mother. By age 14, I was drinking them with her, or sipping moonshine at the table with my grandfather. Alcohol was ingrained in our family culture; I even routinely mixed a hot toddy with whisky when I was sick. It was clear throughout my childhood that my mother struggled with alcoholism and drug use, including the use of valium, marijuana and heroin. I remember as a 6-year-old watching her get high while my dad went to work. And while I knew this was all very wrong, as a child, I felt bound by these secrets. If I told anyone, everyone in my...