Little Black Boy | Teen Ink

Little Black Boy

May 13, 2010
By tone8 GOLD, New Orleans, Louisiana
tone8 GOLD, New Orleans, Louisiana
11 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
A man with one watch knows what time it is; a man with two watches is never quite sure. ~Lee Segall


The shining bright lights as I was held by my mother as she carried me out of the hospital. I didn’t know anything. But there was something strange some scent. The smell of Chocolate, how do I know what chocolate is, I mean I have only been in this world for 5.3 hours.



Ahhhhh! Those days I remember the most, because that’s when I first had a weird felling about chocolate. Chocolate, as shown on the TV, is supposed to be filled with sensation and chocolately goodness. Comes to find out chocolate is not all that great because my race is allergic to my mom said. Honestly, I think chocolate is the most despicable, horrible, and stupidest thing ever created. Why do we have to have Negros in this world. Chocolate just messes everything up and makes everything taste bad. My dad is even a part of a society that like to kill those people who are chocolate, hang them on a tree by a rope, and burn that thing that Jesus was on.









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On my way from school I notice everything is separated. The buses, the water fountains, even the bathroom. Whites are always superior and thats the way I would love it to be. It’s nice to watch those Negros suffer.



Ten minutes have passed and I am walking through the door of my house. I drop off my books, and head to my room. Out of nowhere my dad yells to my mom “Hey look at this negro on TV. He thinks he’s crazy sayin’ that blacks and whites should come together as brothers and sisters. Somebody needs to shoot him because whites are never going to bow down to them Negros.”



My dad is right maybe whites should be put above Negros. I shout out in my room “White power, white power, Negros deserve to die, white power.” I then suddenly pause and notice that I haven’t did my homework yet. I rush downstairs to get my books and my dad is still ranting and raving about the crazy black man. “Homework is a bummer, maybe I will just do it later,” as I yawn loudly. I lay down on my bed and fall into a deep sleep and I hope I dream about killing lots of Negros.



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“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh,” what an enjoyable sleep that was, now lets get backs to the homework. I reach in my book bag to grab a pencil and I notice something is wrong with my skin. I think I may have stayed in the sun to long or my dad could have just painted me to play a joke on me. I then walk to my bathroom and try and rinse the paint off, afraid to look at the mirror. But my anxiousness causes me to look up and I notice that I have been morphed into a little negro boy. I then cry my eyes out knowing that I will never be accepted.



I try to walk downstairs as I turn myself around many times but I just have to show my parents. I feel bad being chocolate I mean all those bad things I have said about them. Things have come back to haunt me. Scared to death because my dad works for the KKK I will sneak out of the house.



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Waiting at the bus stop and my parents have not called for me. A few minutes later some white boys approach me and threaten me to get from by their stop. Frightened I will just walk to school.



Thirsty, I stop at the gas station to get a sip of water. The water fountains are segregated. Since, I am naturally white I decide to use the White’s water fountain. A tall white Caucasian man then approaches me, calls me a negro and pushes me away from the water fountain. I never knew life was so hard being a person of a hated color.



I walk through the doors of the school and my classmates give me funny looks as if I don’t belong there. The bells rings and I report to class. As I walk in the door everyone laughs at me and I am humiliated. My teacher astonished immediately tells the principal so that I can be escorted to another school.



Being a Negro, segregated from everything, no friends, no family no respect, I guess I must now bond with the Negros because I have brought it upon myself...

The author's comments:
This peace was inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King and how blacks were treated during segregation.

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