Harvetta Asamoah
Gathersburg, MD
At 4 years old, while watching attacks on TV with dogs (at that age dogs terrified me under any circumstances), trembling, and listening to my parents loudly discussing it, this word, “Negro” puzzled me. So I raised my small voice, patted his knee and finally got Daddy’s attention, “What, baby?” “Daddy….what’s a Negro?” After a short breathless pause, his booming laughter made me smile. He lifted me up, hugged me and said” YOU, are a Negro.”
