The Color of a Lie

by Kim Johnson

All my life I’d learned how to stay out of a white person’s way. I crossed the street if I had to. Never made eye contact unless they said, “Look at me, boy.”

As I’d walked through the hallways here, I’d noted several empty classrooms ready for increased enrollment.

Feels like Stepford Wives

You can start a new life. An American dream. However, there are rules that you should know, rules this generation must abide by.

I didn’t tell my dad that I’d much rather live over the bodies of my ancestors than blend into a community of people who would burn my home down if they knew the truth.

The peace and quiet were a constant reminder of what was on the other side of the chaos and violence.

“Not everyone can play white, Calvin. And not everyone would want to if they could.”

That’s the thing about being in your own skin: nothing else fits the same.

Our history is we’ve been slaves longer than we’ve been Americans.

The propaganda films replayed in my mind: Be popular. Fit in. Blend in. Disappear.

Being an outsider isn’t easy in a place like this.”