That's just how white folks will do you. It wasn't merely the cruelty involved; I was learning that black people could be mean and then some. It was a particular brand of arrogance, an obtuseness in otherwise sane people that brought forth our bitter laughter. It was as if whites didn't know they were being cruel in the first place. Or at least thought you deserved of their scorn.

Then, during the course of our conversation, he repeated the same story that my grandfather had told, about the white man who had tried to purchase my father’s forgiveness

But she wasn’t prepared for the loneliness. It was constant, like a shortness of breath

My identity might begin with the fact of my race, but it didn't, couldn't, end there. At least that's what I would choose to believe