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320 pages, Hardcover
First published March 19, 2024
“I can tell you that I am a man who is cognizant of his world, a man who has a family, who loves a family, who has been torn from his family, a man who can read and write, a man who will not let his story be self-related, but self-written.”
“ How strange a world, how strange an existence, that one’s equal must argue for one’s equality, that one’s equal must hold a station that allows airing of that argument, that one cannot make that argument for oneself, that premises of said argument must be vetted by those equals who do not agree.”
'White folks expect us to sound a certain way and it can only help if we don’t disappoint them…The only ones who suffer when they are made to feel inferior is us.’
‘I had wondered every time I sneaked in there what white people would do to a slave who had learned how to read. What would they do to a slave who had taught the other slaves to read?’
‘I had never seen a white man filled with such fear. The remarkable truth, however, was that it was not the pistol, but my language, the fact that I didn’t conform to his expectations, that I could read, that had so disturbed and frightened him.’
‘I was as much scared as angry, but where does a slave put anger? We could be angry with one another; we were human. But the real source of our rage had to go without address, swallowed, repressed. They were going to rip my family apart and send me to New Orleans, where I would be even farther from freedom and would probably never see my family again.’
If I could see the words, then no one could control them or what I got from them. They couldn’t even know if I was merely seeing them or reading them, sounding them out or comprehending them. It was a completely private affair ...
You can be white or black. Nobody will question you.” “What should I be?” “Just keep living,” I said. “Just remember, once they see you, or see me in you, you’ve been seen. I know you don’t understand. But you will one day
He had always felt affection for me, if not actual love. He had always looked to me for protection, even when he thought he was trying to protect me
“What’s so funny?” “I don’t know. Hope? Hope is funny. Hope is not a plan. Actually, it’s just a trick. A ruse."