Racism pounces on you. You try to beat it back but it’s there. A story.
A long time ago, my daughter, who was then 12 years old, accepted a slumber party invitation from a classmate. My daughter was white, her classmate black. Several girls from their class, white and black, were invited. The address for the birthday girl’s party was an apartment on a busy street in Milwaukee central city. Every time I drive by this building, I think of this story. That’s how it’s stuck with me.
So I took my daughter to the apartment door and met the birthday girl and her mother. I said goodbye and walked back to my car. It was a neighborhood that we would call rough because we wouldn’t want to call it black because that would be racist.
I sat up in bed that night asking my husband if I had done…
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