It wasn’t until visiting Weeks Island that I felt confronted by racism. The first time it was targeted so directly at me that the behavior didn’t have to be explained. Now, I was clear enough to connect the dots: There were rules. I could reel them off: the bus, the beach, and the one that said if you were walking on the sidewalk and a white person was walking by, you had to step off the sidewalk into the street. How many rules did I know, but not even know that I knew? And what did I not know that could hurt me at a place like Weeks Island?
