Preface
“Without a willingness to confront the human capacity for hatred, we ensure that persecution and dehumanization will continue”
Daralyse Lyons, author and co-creator of theDemystifying Diversity Podcast
I was at the Boys& Girls Club’s after school program, hanging out on the grass by the side of the building, when I overheard a White girl call a Black boy the N-word.
I stormed over to where they were standing. “Did you hear what she called you?”
The boy hung his baseball-capped head.
“Well… What are you gonna do about it?” I wasn’t trying to further intimidate a victim, but I couldn’t let the girl get away with hate speech. I was an eleven-year-old advocate for justice.
Nicole.
I turned to face her.
Nicole went to Western Middle School, like me. We were in the same grade. She was considerably shorter. The boy must’ve gone to Eastern or Central, one of the other two Greenwich Middle schools because he and I didn’t know each other. And Greenwich was the sort of town where kids of color who went to the same school knew each other. There were so few of us. Unfortunately, due to what ensued, the boy and I would never have the opportunity to be formally introduced.
Nicole elongated herself to her full four-feet, three-inches and planted her hands on her nonexistent hips. She had stringy, mousy-brown hair that dangled to her shoulders, a pinched face—like a Doberman’s—and beady blue eyes. “Yeah.” She sneered. “What’re you gonna do about it,nigger?”
The brim of the boy’s hat remained pointed at the ground. “Nothing. I can’t hit a girl.”
I knew that, if I wanted to remain on the right side of justice, I couldn’t