All I wanted to be was normal. Honestly, was that too much to ask for? Other girls asked to be the next Marilyn Monroe, or to be famous. All I wanted was to be less disparate and to be able to fit in for once. Of course this was impossible considering I was African American.
“Debby, we have to get to school NOW!” my mother berated.

The one thing I never ever wanted to do was go to school. I used to think I would love to go because, I loved learning new things, the smell of new books, and seeing my friends, but it’s hard to do that when each time you turn around someone’s glaring at you or calling you names. It was tenuous to get a smile every once and a while in the hall from a teacher or schoolmate. I tried everything to fit in with the rotten girls at my school. I brought swing dresses, I curled my hair, and the only thing they ever noticed was my skin. Not only did I not fit in, but people made it a point to analyze every halting thing about me. They called me names every day. I would never repeat these words, ever; they made my head hurt and my lips numb. It never made sense to me how the color of someone’s skin can determine if they’re bad or not, my vehemence for segregation is much deeper than the hate I feel towards the people who think that the color of your skin could decide where you stand in life. Even though I loathed the words they said to me, I knew that one day I wouldn’t be so different, one day this world would change for the better. I had something a lot of people didn’t, I had hope.

I finished brushing my teeth and made my way downstairs to where my mother was standing, she started opening the door and we made our way out. We climbed into our station wagon and started making the dreadful drive to junior high. I hopped out of the car, grabbed my pack and made my way to the wretched building.
“Deb, wait up!” My best friend (also known as one of my cronies), Jimmy bellowed. We’d been best friends since pre-k he was one of the only kids that didn’t treat me differently. He had dark brown hair, the palest skin, thousands of freckles, and the deepest blue eyes.
I waited for him to catch up with me, in his hands was the new Beatles album, I wasn’t much of a fan, but Jimmy went “ape ” for them. We waded through all of the kids trying to get into the school, as we approached our homerooms we came face to face with the in-crowd . They were a bunch of girls who thought they were perfect even though they looked like a bomb 24/7. They would get blitzed every weekend and the boys always carried blades with them.

The leader of their crowd, Donna, narrowed her eyes at me. “Beat it .”

They knew I wouldn’t stand up for myself they could torment me for perennial amounts of time without getting in any trouble; I was too scared to say anything. I tried going around them but her boyfriend grabbed me. They started throwing me around. They cooped me up in their circle of terror. No teacher stood up for me, they only saw me as an ankle biter , and they would pretend they didn’t see what was going on. Finally Jimmy stepped in and pulled me away. Jimmy brought me outside; we had a while before class started (one of the perks of getting to school early). Trying not to bawl I began to traipse, without realizing it we were dawdling. Loosing track of time, and for once I didn’t care if I was going to be late or not, it was not like the teachers I had genuinely cared about me, the only thing they cared about was making me feel bad about myself and getting me into trouble. Although I wanted to continue the blissful feeling of having no worries, Jimmy was conspicuous about how much he didn’t want to get in trouble.


After the bell rang we decided to beat feet before the fuzz , our principal, not the police, came outside to scold us.

Throughout my eight years of schooling (I was in the eighth grade) there was always that one teacher that constantly picked on me. They would say that black people weren’t smart, that I wouldn’t get into college; they savored the moments where they could act macho and bogat me about nothing.

“Debora, you do know that class starts at 8:30 don’t you?” Mr. Thomas gesticulated towards the clock. In that one second the clock changed from 8:30 to 8:31. I was flabbergasted that he would even accuse such a petty thing upon me. I wasn’t going to refute him that would only lead to giving him atonement. Instead I gouged out an “I apologize for being late; it won’t be a motif anymore.” He just rolled his eyes and began to start teaching again.

Reluctantly, I walked over to my seat and took out my notebook; I needed to get out of school. I sat there thinking that I don’t deserve this, I deserve to be treated with respect and to be treated fairly. I knew my chance to become indifferent was coming. I also knew that I couldn’t sit here and wait for it to happen; I decided to take a stand.

When I came home from school I grabbed the newspaper and began to read. It was the same old, same old but this time when I flipped over the page, in the headlines it stated that Marin Luther King Jr. was arrested during an anti-segregation protest. Another person who got in trouble for standing up for themselves.
The following year I started high school; it was no different than middle school, except for one thing. I didn’t stand out so much; there were many other people of my color. I made new friends and had volition, I wasn’t pushed around any longer and I could fend for myself. Along with all of the new kids I had met, I also had many new experiences. I walked in two marches, one led by the famous Marin Luther King Jr. that started in Birmingham, Alabama, and another also led by him in Washington where he made his speech that I fell in love with. Both of these experiences made tremendous impacts on my life, not only good but some bad. Throughout these experiences I truly had exposure to how cruel people could be, all we wanted was to be treated as equals.

Not only did I witness Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech, I met him. The adulation I gave him was unlike any I had given anyone else. In his eyes everyone was equal. He was the one reason I didn’t stop believing in myself, he spoke such words of wisdom, words of hope. Due to his constant invigoration to life I had walked proudly in two marches. I had witnessed Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous “I Have A Dream…” speech which he spoke with such eloquently in. Like me, he knew that one day this world would change, that we both wouldn’t be so different. When I missed my parents he reassured me that they loved me and banished any contrition. Through him I was reassured that these walks and protests would be all worth it in the end. The words he conveyed were everlasting, there was no limit on appraise they gave.
As much as he made his words honorable, some people would never understand him, or me, or anyone of our color. The worst day of my life was April 4th, 1968. It was only a few weeks ago and the pain was still fresh. I lamented the detriment of Martin Luther King Jr. He was assassinated. When I found out he had died, I didn’t know how to react, this person that had made such a monumental impact on my life had been taken away by one of the horrible people that took my freedoms away. I was angry for a while, it killed me because I knew how much he wanted this world to change, and I knew how much he wanted to live to see a change. His death will forever be indecipherable.
After his death I really reconnoitered my life. In 1968 a lot had changed, but so many things had stayed the same. In the seven years since 1961 when I decided I couldn’t sit around any longer, I had done a lot. I was now twenty-one; I had really grown up, I knew who I was. On July 2nd, 1964, segregation was officially abolished, even though people still treated me differently, I would never get upset because I knew that I had a part in ending segregation.