1963
Birmingham, Alabama
As I stumble into the vast classroom, my body stops with my arms and legs frozen in place.
A straight line covers my mouth while my I look back and forth lingering on a few pale faces.
Longer than necessary judging by the scowls on their faces.
My fingers brush awkwardly against the cold air. Water seems to disappear from my mouth, as I suddenly lose the ability to speak.
Lovely.
While my nose is being attacked by the strong odour, my mouth keeps opening and closing repeatedly as I try to come up with something sensible to say.
Anything?
Literally anything?
No.
Blank.
My mind is completely blank.
After a while of my blatantly obvious stupidity, shuffling my feet and fidgeting with my fingers, voices erupt throughout the classroom. Hands instantly raise directed towards me, and not-so-subtle whispers travel throughout the class. The class. This class was filled with numerous people all of whom were shooting icy daggers at me with their eyes.
"Look who's back,"
my head rushes to the source of the noise only to land on a certain group.
Ugh...
Lauren, Laura, Leah and Lottie
The group of pretty, popular, mediocre and widely loved white girls.
Emphasis on 'white' because if they were any other race they wouldn't be considered any of the other things I listed above.
Right?
"Can it not hear me?" Snaps one of the brunette haired girls, sending laughter around the table.
"Do you think it's deaf?"
"Oh Shut up, Leah, She's obviously ignoring us on purpose," Lauren giggles. "Probably thinks she's better than us."
A scoff escapes my mouth.
"What do you expect, she's another one of.. Them, of course she doesn't have any common sense" Another set of boys join in the conversation, while I stand still absolutely shocked. "She probably doesn't even know what common sense is."
"Them?" A seemingly clueless voice squeaks between the insults.
"Yeah, you know. Them.." Now everyone seems to be part of this kind argument clearly complimenting me.
"What?"
"I don't know if I should say it the teacher's ri-"
"Oh, just spit it out, Thomas."
"Well," he looks around as though contemplating speaking or keeping his mouth closed. "Negros..."
YOU ARE READING
Separate But Not Equal
General FictionIvory Jones has faced the challenges of segregation all her life. Growing up in Birmingham, one of the most segregated cities in America, she keeps her head down and avoids socializing with all people that are trouble. It's 1963, and as racism gets...
