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White is right
As a African-American growing up in the 1940’s; I never had much. I moved from place to place regularly; it was hard for me to understand why at the time. Ever since I was little, right after my mama died; Papa had to work to the bone providing for himself and I. He often came home to our abandoned shack, hungry. Not so much as a few pennies on him; everyday he made sure to remind me of our circumstances. He always said “It’s hard for a black man out here, Son. Never forget ‘white is right’, and you don’t ever wanna be like a white man”. I didn't care much because without mama all I had was him, and he loved me and I loved him. We always played games and sang songs when papa wasn't working. Whenever I cried, he was there to wipe my tears. Whenever I was hungry, he gave me extra food. He never lied to me, and never steered me wrong I always listened to him and tried to be a good son. I never had problems with him around it was fun when I was young. Then I had to find out for myself about white folks, and after many years I had to work too, and it was hard for me to understand it all.
I polished shoes, waited on colored folks and served the white man. I saw how they treated colored folks. The white people beat us publicly, sprayed us with big hoses and yet, they were in charge? Is this what made a white man a white man? I was confused I had so many questions so I asked my papa what a white man really is and he said “A white man….believes he's pure with no sin. He doesn't have to work as hard because we do all the hard work for them, us colored folks we take all the pain and strife of the world and put it on our shoulders for them. The white man has power over colored folks and makes them weep and cry and a white man can kill a black man and feel no pain. They are pure evil the devil among us but because they’re white no one cares about all the wrongs they do. That's a white man son”.
I went to sleep thinking of what papa said I thought “Why does the white men have the power, is being white that great?” I started thinking about white men versus colored men. How miserable colored men were, how happy white men were. I went to my papa’s side of the shack and told him about my thoughts and told him I wanted to become white. He stared at me, I saw the hate in his eyes for the first time. He slapped me and screamed “no you don’t! you will never be a white man!” that was the first time I cried and he didn’t wipe my tears. I went about my days trying to do the things papa told me white men did. The only thoughts in my head was “become, white, pure” I examined the white people. I did the things they did, I despised the color of my skin and all others with it. I called myself a “nigger” and tried to purify myself. I poured flour on my skin. Which my father hated. I started fighting with other colored folks. Which my father hated and I thought, I’m never gonna be a white man. Then I thought about the last thing papa told me about a white man. “They can kill a black man and feel no pain”. So I got up and looked at my papa sleeping near my mama’s picture like he does every night. Then I saw a shard of glass and knew what I had to do.
I grabbed the glass and put it to his chest. I thought about his hateful glares and scornful words. Then I whispered to my papa “papa do you think I could be like a white man now?” as I thrust the glass into his chest and saw his eyes open and turn white which I loved to see it made me feel so happy. As he tried to grab me. I thrust the glass several times into his body each time, I laughed harder and harder as he stopped breathing. When I saw what I had done, I grabbed the picture of my mama, kissed his forehead and said. “Sleep papa you’re done working, go to mama now”. I got up and felt accomplished I finally felt free. I was so happy I told everyone the good news, that I killed my father and I had been purified. I got arrested the next day, the police told me I was gonna be hung for the murder of my father I couldn’t have been happier. As I was standing there on the ledge colored to one side and my new found people, to the other. As they laughed, I joined them. Thinking how ridiculousness the situation I was in; I had accomplished the impossible. I can finally say that I'm like other white men; What's wrong with that?
© ManiaM.D
I polished shoes, waited on colored folks and served the white man. I saw how they treated colored folks. The white people beat us publicly, sprayed us with big hoses and yet, they were in charge? Is this what made a white man a white man? I was confused I had so many questions so I asked my papa what a white man really is and he said “A white man….believes he's pure with no sin. He doesn't have to work as hard because we do all the hard work for them, us colored folks we take all the pain and strife of the world and put it on our shoulders for them. The white man has power over colored folks and makes them weep and cry and a white man can kill a black man and feel no pain. They are pure evil the devil among us but because they’re white no one cares about all the wrongs they do. That's a white man son”.
I went to sleep thinking of what papa said I thought “Why does the white men have the power, is being white that great?” I started thinking about white men versus colored men. How miserable colored men were, how happy white men were. I went to my papa’s side of the shack and told him about my thoughts and told him I wanted to become white. He stared at me, I saw the hate in his eyes for the first time. He slapped me and screamed “no you don’t! you will never be a white man!” that was the first time I cried and he didn’t wipe my tears. I went about my days trying to do the things papa told me white men did. The only thoughts in my head was “become, white, pure” I examined the white people. I did the things they did, I despised the color of my skin and all others with it. I called myself a “nigger” and tried to purify myself. I poured flour on my skin. Which my father hated. I started fighting with other colored folks. Which my father hated and I thought, I’m never gonna be a white man. Then I thought about the last thing papa told me about a white man. “They can kill a black man and feel no pain”. So I got up and looked at my papa sleeping near my mama’s picture like he does every night. Then I saw a shard of glass and knew what I had to do.
I grabbed the glass and put it to his chest. I thought about his hateful glares and scornful words. Then I whispered to my papa “papa do you think I could be like a white man now?” as I thrust the glass into his chest and saw his eyes open and turn white which I loved to see it made me feel so happy. As he tried to grab me. I thrust the glass several times into his body each time, I laughed harder and harder as he stopped breathing. When I saw what I had done, I grabbed the picture of my mama, kissed his forehead and said. “Sleep papa you’re done working, go to mama now”. I got up and felt accomplished I finally felt free. I was so happy I told everyone the good news, that I killed my father and I had been purified. I got arrested the next day, the police told me I was gonna be hung for the murder of my father I couldn’t have been happier. As I was standing there on the ledge colored to one side and my new found people, to the other. As they laughed, I joined them. Thinking how ridiculousness the situation I was in; I had accomplished the impossible. I can finally say that I'm like other white men; What's wrong with that?
© ManiaM.D
