I asked Sharpe if things would be better if the South were still segregated. “Damn right, they would,” he replied. “In my town, there were no blacks until recently—they knew they wasn’t supposed to live with white people. Now, they’re all around. They even have interracial dating.” Sharpe paused, trying to contain himself. “Look, I’m a labor foreman. I’ve got blacks working for me. We eat lunch together. But at the end of the day I go to my home and they don’t come along. This isn’t hate, it’s just not wanting to mix your seed with another race.”
