When I learned life isn’t fair — 4 of 31
Or “Writing Apologies in Crayon to Harry”
I’m a patron of Ninja Writers and this is day four of the May Medium Post-a-Day Challenge of blogging for 30 consecutive days.
In 1991, I was in first grade. I don’t remember what time of year it was. Maybe the beginning of the year?
I would sit towards the back of the bus because most of the boys my age did. The cool ones used to have those handheld Ninja Turtle games that I loved so much. I never got to play it, but I always sat to a boy who did, Francis, and watched him play it.
I didn’t talk much then. I was a very shy child and it wasn’t until many years later in middle school that I figured out the whole how to socialize thing. So, I used to sit near the kids who seemed to have figured it out and hoped I would just absorb it.
On this day, as I was walking to the back of the bus to pick a seat and I noticed the boys were laughing and giggling while ducking behind their seats, sometimes peeking quickly over towards the front of the bus.
They had learned the word ‘nigger’ for the first time. And they were talking about our bus driver, Harry, who was black.
I knew what it meant. I knew it was a word that was meant to be hurtful, but I didn’t know what it really meant. My mother had told me it was a word her grandfather used to use and she was ashamed by it.
I sat there, quiet. I felt like I had to tell them it was bad, but I was afraid of confronting them and being ostracized by the group. So, I just stared forward and tried to ignore it.
“He’s a smelly nigger.”
“He’s got a big dumb nigger nose.”
“Nigger!”
I was so angry. I felt like I had to do something. How dare they use that word? My mother said it was an awful word and they didn’t even care.
I could feel the angry coursing through my veins. I felt hot and my face turned red.
I had to do something. I broke out the only word just as bad I had learned (secretly) from my friend Jeremy across the street.
“YEAH WELL YOU GUYS ARE ASSHOLES.”
The whole bus went silent. I suddenly felt cold. Scared. I knew I was in big trouble.
Harry turned around slowly as he stood up to face the back of the bus.
“Young man, what did you just say? You come here this instant.”
The boys howled. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!” Francis led the charge with such glee. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he pointed me out.
I tried to explain myself, but Harry wasn’t having any of it.
“Young man, that is not language I will tolerate on this school bus. You will tell your parents what you did and exit immediately.”
I was in my neighborhood, but I wasn’t supposed to get off until two stops later. I cried the whole walk home. My mother was home and I had told her what happened. She explained the concept of “Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right” to me for the first time. I was so angry the boys were getting away with it. It wasn’t fair.
“Tough Bananas. Life isn’t fair, honey.”
I had to write an apology letter and having never done it before, I wrote it in crayon. Something along the lines of, “I apologize Harry for using a bad word. I’m so very sorry.”
The next day, I trudged to the bus and handed Harry the letter, trying not to look at him. He chuckled seeing it in crayon and as I went to get on the bus, he told me:
“Stay away from those boys. Nothing but trouble.”
I never sat in the back again.
