Lex

“An order from the justices went out in New Hanover County, North Carolina, in the search of a runaway named London, granting that "any person may KILL and DESTROY the said slave by such means as he or they may think fit." This casual disregard for black life and the deputizing of any citizen to take that life would become a harbinger of the low value accorded African-Americans in the police and vigilante shootings of unarmed black citizens that continued into the early decades of the 21st century.”
― Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents

“Should a parent clip them a little at a time, spread it out to spare them the pain of a single blow? Should a parent sit them down and get it over with? You could argue that the sooner a child knows, the safer, more prepared he will be. Maybe a parent should hold off as long as he can, give his child the longest possible chance to... a child. He'll have the rest of his life, decades, to live with the reality, adjust himself to the truth.”
― Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents

“I am The Black Book.
Between my top and my bottom, my right and my
left, I hold what I have seen, what I have done, and what I have thought.
I am everything I have hated: labor without harvest; death without honor;
life without land or law. I am a black woman holding a white child in her
arms singing to her own baby lying unattended in the grass.

I am all the ways I have failed:
I am the black slave owner, the buyer of
Golden Peacock Bleach Crème and Dr. Palmer’s Skin Whitener, the self-
hating player of the dozens; I am my own nigger joke.

I am all the ways I survived:
I am tun-mush, hoecake cooked on a hoe; I am
Fourteen black jockeys winning the Kentucky Derby. I am the creator of
hundreds of patented inventions; I am Lafitte the pirate and Marie Laveau.
I am Bessie Smith winning a roller-skating contest; I am quilts and ironwork,
fine carpentry and lace. I am the wars I fought, the gold I mined,
The horses I broke, the trails I blazed.

I am all the things I have seen:
The New York Caucasian newspaper, the
scarred back of Gordon the slave, the Draft Riots, darky tunes, and mer-
chants distorting my face to sell thread, soap, shoe polish coconut.

And I am all the things
I have ever loved: scuppernong wine, cool baptisms in
silent water, dream books and number playing. I am the sound of my own
voice singing “Sangaree.” I am ring-shouts, and blues, ragtime and gospels. I am
mojo, voodoo, and gold earrings.

I am not complete here; there is much more,
but there is no more time and no more space . . . and I have journeys to take,
ships to name, and crews.”
― Middleton A. Harris, The Black Book

“You stepped on my foot,” Jules snapped at Josh. “Your foot got in my way,” Josh snapped back. “Like I would intentionally put any part of my body in your way—” “I need to Lysol myself to get your—” “Stop it!” Stella slashed her hand through the air, startling everyone with her sharp tone. She was usually the most Zen in our group. “Or I’ll post the candid and very unflattering photos I have of the both of you online.” Josh and Jules gasped. “You wouldn’t,” they said at the same time before glaring at each other.”
― Ana Huang, Twisted Games