James

by Percival Everett

And so, after these books, the Bible itself was the least interesting of all. I could not enter it, did not want to enter it, and then understood that I recognized it as a tool of my enemy. I chose the word enemy, and still do, as oppressor necessarily supposes a victim.

“Yes, but them people liked it, Jim. Did you see their faces? They had to know them was lies, but they wanted to believe. What do you make of that?” “Folks be funny lak dat. Dey takes the lies dey want and throws away the truths dat scares ’em.”

White people often spent time admiring their survival of one thing or another. I imagined it was because so often they had no need to survive, but only to live.

We knew that she, I, all of us, were forever naked in the world.

I hated the world that wouldn’t let me apply justice without the certain retaliation of injustice.