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208 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 12, 2009
Not long ago I met a woman, a poet and a scholar, about the same age as my mother. She recalled meeting my newly wed parents in the late sixties at a dinner party in Cambridge. She told me her impressions of them: they were radical, and looked down on the other dinner guests, who were not radical enough. And this too: "It was obvious they adored each other."
We learn in school that the civil rights movement was about overcoming segregation. But as my father has pointed out to me, what an oddly neutral word - segregation to describe what was happening in this country. We prefer it to more blunt descriptions of that social arrangement: subjugation, oppression. And perhaps, also, we don't want to acknowledge the ways in which we were not segregated at all, the ways in which the lives of black and white people have always been intertwined at the most intimate level. Slavery was intimate. Oppression is so often an act of intimacy.