Black Boy

by Richard Wright

One of the strange, striped animals turned a black face upon me. “What are you doing?” I asked in a whisper, not knowing if one actually spoke to elephants. He shook his head and cast his eyes guardedly back at a white man, then dug on again. Suddenly I noticed that the white men were holding the long, heavy black sticks—rifles!—on their shoulders. After they had passed I ran breathlessly into the house. “Mama!” I yelled. “What?” she answered from the kitchen. “There are elephants in the street!” She came to the kitchen door and stared at me. “Elephants?” she asked. “Yes. Come and see them. They’re digging in the street.” My mother dried her hands on her apron and rushed to the front door. I followed, wanting her to interpret the baffling spectacle I had seen. She looked out of the door and shook her head. “Those are not elephants,” she said. “What are they?” “That’s a chain gang.” “What’s a chain gang?” “It’s just what you see,” she said. “A gang of men chained together and made to work.” “Why?” “Because they’ve done something wrong and they’re being punished.” “What did they do?” “I don’t know.” “But why do they look like that?” “That’s to keep them from running away,” she said. “You see, everybody’ll know that they’re convicts because of their stripes.” “Why don’t the white men wear stripes?” “They’re the guards.” “Do white men ever wear stripes?” “Sometimes.” “Did you ever see any?” “No.” “Why are there so many black men wearing stripes?” “It’s because…Well, they’re ha...