And we were hurt. I got beaten up a lot because then as now I refused silence. I got in a lot of fist fights.
I slapped a nun across the face for saying the N word when #MLK was killed because my mother had slapped me when I had asked what the word meant.
I knew it was not to be spoken.
I almost wasn't allowed back to school.
We had to put our cat in the basement when she visited, because my mother said she was afraid of cats.
I remember the intake of breath as she decided what to tell this white child.
She was not alone in the sack.
There was a cat in there, too.
A cat desperate to get out.
When she & the cat were finally free, both were bloody.
She still had the fine lines of scars across her beautiful face.
I remember how angry I was when she told me.
How much I wanted to fight back for her--for the child her.