I’m having an awesome conversation with a kid,
and then the little boy looks at me with a furrowed brow and says in a matter-of-fact way,
‘my nan hates white people’
And now, suddenly aware that in his eyes, I’m a white lady his nan hates,
And I say that’s ok, each to their own, but you’re an individual, you can make your own decisions, right?
he thinks about it for a second, and says ‘yeah’
before he walks away.
Maybe, in another place and time,
and by that I mean another suburb tomorrow,
this conversation takes a different turn,
where a little boy says,
‘my nan hates black people’
And a lady says why? Why does your nan hate black people? That’s racist.
And I’m white people now, I noticed that, but years ago I was not quite white enough,
Back before my hair turned from black to white, almost overnight it seemed,
And I would stay in the Sun all summer long, until my skin was dark brown,
And people called me names and spat on me until I cried.
Back then, I was not quite white people. I was wog people then.
Benighted © 