Michael Manning
Somerville, MA
I was bused in 1969 to a school in Roxbury, Mass., and was myself discriminated against because of the color of my skin. I was white and most of the students were black. I couldn’t understand their anger with me, I didn’t know that I had done anything. All I knew was that I wanted to be just like them. Eventually I had friends in school who were black, the few that would dare to have a white friend. I can still hear them saying, ‘Mike’s okay’ as kids would try to fight with me. As if I, of all whites, was alright. I had to confront an anger, a discrimination, that I didn’t even understand, that I was not responsible for, that I couldn’t possibly overcome. It was an intensely formative experience. No matter how I was picked on I never stooped to using any of the language that was in the air in those years. What they didn’t know was that I wanted to be them for so many reasons, their smiles, the way they played and ran, the smell of their skin and hair, even their anger, which was so present.
