They don’t want you there. They don’t want anything to do with us.
Ma’s words are seared in my brain. I know the white folk can hurt me, but I want a good education. I want to be there.
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I get off the bus, with nine other students. White mothers, fathers, children, aunts, uncles, and everyone in-between are shouting, and pressing against the line of police trying to make us leave. I hold my head high and walk into the new school. They can’t stop me any more than they can stop their heart from beating, I’ll get an education.
This is great, Rach! You've captured the feeling so well.
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