Another Country

by James Baldwin

‘Want to come to a birthday party?’ ‘No, thank you, sweetie. You want to educate your family, you get them some slides, you hear? Coloured slides,’ and she raised her eyes, mockingly, from the magazine. He laughed, but felt so guilty about Ida and about his mother that he was unable to let well enough alone. ‘I’d like to take you over with me one of these days. It might do them some good. They’re such cornballs.’ ‘What might do them some good?’ Her attention was still on her magazine. ‘Why – meeting you. They’re not bad people. They’re just very limited.’ ‘I’ve told you, I’m not at all interested in the education of your family, Vivaldo.’ Obscurely, deeply, he was stung. ‘Don’t you think there’s any hope for them?’ ‘I don’t give a damn if there’s any hope for them or not. But I know that I am not about to be bugged by any more white jokers who still can’t figure out whether I’m human or not. If they don’t know, baby, sad on them, and I hope they drop dead slowly, in great pain.’ ‘That’s not very Christian,’ he said, lightly. But he was ready to drop it. ‘It’s the best I can do. I learned all my Christianity from white folks.’