Momee, why did you hit me?

Joseph Jackson, III
Gulfport, MS

I asked my grandmother that question after she hit my butt so hard I saw little blue stars. It was 1957, N.O. La. at the grand opening of what was then billed as the world’s largest supermarket. My crime? Being 6 years old and drinking from the whites only water fountain. Why? That store was to New Orleans what Walmart is to many communities today. It was packed! There were literally thousands of people there. My mom and dad were like #60 in one of about 40+ checkout lines. I was too short to drink from the colored only fountain. The “good” white folk were thoughtful enough to place a little staircase for the little white kids. So I reasoned that, ‘I’m thirsty’…, ‘I’m too short’ …, ‘there are some stairs’ sooo! My grandmother told me she suspected that I could read a little by age 3. I was quite precocious and inquisitive and ready to question and/or challenge anything I didn’t fully understand or quite comprehend. She figured that me and old Mr. Jim Crow would fail to see eye-to-eye in our inevitable confrontation. So she fired me a warning shot. And QUITE a shot it was! She snatched me off of those stairs and embraced me so tightly in her ample bosom that I was unable to breathe! After breaking her hold, I looked up into her loving face. She had tears in her eyes. She then softly said to me 2 more race card entries (do you remember my question to her ?) ” Did it because I love you” Then…, ” Baby, one day you will understand”


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