Name: Rachel M.                Humanities

Date: Dec. 7th Colonial Creative Writing

What I See…

My name is Charlotte Ray, and I am 39 years old. I have just graduated from Howard University School of Law. I am woman in the year 1872 that has a college diploma. Yet still, I don’t have equal rights. I am smarter than half the men in this town, and I am still miles below a high glass ceiling. I remember when I was a young girl. Looking back, my thoughts were exactly what society would have wanted me to think. I looked at skin in a way I no one should. It disgusted me. I stared down at my arms and legs. They were the tint of mud. It looked as though I had been slathered in dirt. It was the cause of my pain. I was angry, not only at skin, but also at  the white men that control this world, and everything else I could think of. I eventually realized that my skin is beautiful. The silky brown chocolate that covered me from head to toe. The only person who must know this is me. I am the only one who’s opinion matters.

I remove my thin white sheets, and head to the kitchen. I take a knife and slice the stale bread. I can’t afford a new loaf every morning, nor can I eat a whole loaf in one sitting. So, I cut it in half, and put the rest in the cupboard. I take some butter and spread it across my white slice of bread. I chew thoroughly so as not to choke on the sharp shreds of crumbs. I stop and think about my breakfast. Why am I eating this? This hard, burnt roll. Is it because I am lesser than the woman up the street? Because I don’t work as hard as the blacksmith, or the baker. No, this has nothing to do with that. It has to do with what people think of me. Slavery only ended seven years ago, and the twisted thoughts that go along with it are still in the air. Iike the steam from a fresh pot of soup, it may take a while to dissipate. It may not be fair, but it’s how it will be until the day I die. I know this because I am almost forty, and a woman of my age is sure to pass soon. I hope that somewhere down the road, a little black girl will have a better breakfast. She’ll have pastries, pies, wafers, toast, muffins and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.