The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Carolyn Fitzpatrick
Sarasota, FL
He picked me to dance in 8th grade, because he thought I was a good dancer. I was flattered and thrilled.
Mother didn’t see it that way. She said: “you were the only white girl dancing with a colored boy.” She didn’t get it that we were just happy children having fun and – he was, after all one of the best students in the class.
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