It is experiences like this that make me angry. I am angry because while my parents told me that people were racist and that people of color have a hard time because of it. I didn’t realize the extent of it, the pervasiveness of it. I didn’t realize that the only black girl in my high school social studies class probably stood alone in front of a complacent administration to demand that something be done about the rednecks parading their flag around the parking lot during the last period of the day. It kept happening of course. I was sure they would do something. They didn’t. I also didn’t know how little I knew about slavery and Jim Crow until I went to a public university. I took an African American lit class(mainly cause the thought of taking English lit made me want to poke my eyes out or vomit). That is when the scales on my eyes really began to fall. It was taught by a woman of African descent. She gave us a perspective that no white male ever could have. Also one of my social work professors and finally a friend of mine who’s white ex husband was so easily able to convince the court, child advocate, etc that she is an abusive angry black woman despite the evidence to the contrary. I posted Metta’s article to Facebook and got mostly silence but one really long angry response from someone who I thought knew better. It is hard to respond to that kind of anger with calmness that will not inflame further and not water down the truth. It is exhausting and frustrating. And God bless you for having endured it for so long!