red

i was raised between the bricks of government housing. the family next to me was black. the family next to them was black too. i never understood what skin meant until the first fight i got into. i didn't understand, they beat me up because i was different, and i assumed i deserved it. history class reinforced that belief. my ancestors enslaved theirs. my ancestors enslaved my best friends ancestors. my ancestors subjugated, lynched their ancestors. i was descended from bigotry and hate. i was white. i wasnt christian. i was different. but since i was different they had to make me the same. hell, we all bleed red. kids will be kids. i fought back. i won a few times, lost mainly. i was lost, mainly. i was alienated. divorced from the gentle hands i had known, some of the best people are born black. eventually, the fighting stopped. but i was always wary, like a stray dog. it wasn't until high school that i truly understood. they felt the same way, their violence was them fighting back against a culture that assumed they were only good for fighting. and work. and drugs. but the lesson they learned was the same as mine we all bleed red.