The Personal Librarian

by Marie Benedict

You have made official our status as whites. After all the work I’ve done to advocate for the equal rights of black and colored people. After how hard I’ve argued in courts and in newspapers and journals and on stages that all citizens should be treated the same—whether they are black, white, or colored.

That we should not be defined by how many drops of African blood run in our veins, but by our character and our deeds. That we should not be ashamed of our heritage and we all, blacks and coloreds alike, should unify in our fight against prejudice. Your act goes against everything I stand for and everything I’ve worked for—”

“Reporting yourself and our children as white is like turning your back on your own people. Turning your back on yourself.” There was a long pause before he spoke again, but when he did, it was barely above a whisper. “And turning your back on me, most of all.”

“You think our pale skin is a gift from God?” Papa’s fury was evident. “Don’t you ever think about the reason we are light-colored?