James

by Percival Everett

Religion is just a controlling tool they employ and adhere to when convenient.”

At that moment the power of reading made itself clear and real to me. If I could see the words, then no one could control them or what I got from them.

With my pencil, I wrote myself into being.

I wondered if he was angry. I wondered if I had ever not been angry.

“Belief has nothing to do with truth. Believe what you like.

I considered the northern white stance against slavery. How much of the desire to end the institution was fueled by a need to quell and subdue white guilt and pain?

My voice, even in my head, had found its root in my diaphragm, had become sonorous and round.

“I am a sign. I am your future. I am James.”