Kindred

by Octavia E. Butler

My squeamishness belonged in another age, but I’d brought it along with me.

I don’t know what to do. I ought to be doing something though. I know that.”

“The ease. Us, the children … I never realized how easily people could be trained to accept slavery.”

My memory of my aunt and uncle told me that even people who loved me could demand more of me than I could give—and expect their demands to be met simply because I owed them.

See how easily slaves are made? they said.