I wanted to reblog my first post today. I was told by a friend that the link in the “Why I Write” page was dead and thought it deserved a boost.
Originally posted on The Colored Fountain:
As the doors of the subway car slide closed a pained wail issues from down the platform. “STOP!”
The entire car gazes inquisitively out the windows. A young black man runs by. A moment passes. A young Asian woman rushes by. “STOP!” a rush of anger floods the car. Some passengers edge towards the shut doors seething impotently at the empty platform before them.
Not me. I seethe at the young man. The black boy who would steal a purse in utter disregard of me and every other black person on the car who will bare the shame of his actions with me and of every young black man who will now unwillingly be branded purse-snatcher in his stead.
The car comes alive with vitriol in 5 different languages. I wonder how many languages have ‘nigger’ in them. I wonder how many colloquial stories are being spoken invoking the…
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