What are "they" really like?

Paul Douglas White

I Grew up in a neighborhood where almost everyone's skin color was the same as mine. I didn't really know how I felt about people of other races, even by the time I had gotten to high school, because I'd had so little contact with them.

One of my first "introductions" to another race was when I was leaving a distant neighborhood gym after an informal basketball game. I was jumped and beaten by a gang whose members were of a different race. This left me with some distinct feelings about people of another color, and unfortunately the feelings were deeply hateful. The memories of being punched, kicked, stoned, and chased with baseball bats only because of the color of my skin were hard to forget.

I had another very different experience just a few months later. My constant, angry arguing with my parents had gotten so severe that my dad said I needed to stop being so disrespectful immediately or get out of our home. I left, but the reality of having no place to live set in within moments. Neighborhood friends of my own race gave me much sympathy, but no one offered me shelter.

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