Your Stories: Hate Wears A Badge
These are the first hand accounts of the human cost of greed, corruption or bigotry in our country. We are not post-racial, women are not equals, homosexuals are still reviled, corporations ruin lives and justice is sometimes not only blind, but deaf and mute as well. We have a lot of work to do and it’s important that you know you are not working alone. Others share your pain and now they are willing to share it with the world.
From reader Shana Tucciarone:
I have a story to share….
I have a biracial background. ( my father is African American, and my mother is Caucasian). Now being raised in a biracial home, and with a family of many different ethnicities, race wasn’t a focal point of our lives. We grew up not thinking about skin color. When I was 7, my cousins and brothers and I were going to the public swimming pool to go swimming, we often took a shortcut to get to the pool that was a small trail located among some trees near the pool. Now, to my parents credit,we were told not to use those trails, but we didn’t think anything of it. One day we took that shortcut to get home and some police officers approached us. One officer asked us, “What are you niggers doing back here?” I looked at my older cousin, who was older than the rest of us (and is Caucasian) and asked, “What is a nigger?” She shook her head, told the officers she was taking us home, and we were told to get out of there and not go back again. Later my cousin explained what a “nigger” was, and I still didn’t fully understand, I was 7! I never did forget that experience, and I don’t think I ever will. My first experience with racism was from a police officer, a person I was taught to respect, look up to, and go to if I ever needed help. For a long time, I thought that the police didn’t like me because I was black, or at least I looked that way. I thought they all thought that I was a nigger. It was a scary thought, and it haunted me for a long time, at least until I got to the age where I realized that not everyone felt that way. I never knew the word “nigger” until I met a police officer, and he changed my life, because at that point, I knew that the world didn’t think like me, and I could be hated simply because I was darker skinned.
And people wonder why it is that African-Americans seem to end up in jail more often than Caucasians. I’m sure this kind of automatic racism has nothing to do with it… -FLS
If you want to share your story, contact me here. Your privacy is guaranteed if you choose to remain anonymous or you can shout it out to the world. The choice is yours. Don’t worry about being the greatest writer ever. Not everyone can be Shakespeare. Just tell your story and let the literary critics worry about themselves.