I was a child, my parents would take me to church every
Sunday. They were devout Catholics, living in South
Carolina. Our congregation was entirely white, and I
had no black friends.
I was about five years old, our priest was talking to
my parents. Throughout this conversation I grew fidgety
and uncomfortable and eventually I started crying. This
happened every time my parents talked with the priest.
One time, during one of these meetings, I blurted out
"white devil!" at the priest, and then ran
away. Obviously, my parents were rather worried about
I was slightly older, my parents had me do gardening
as a chore. I refused to cooperate every time I was
told to help out in the garden. With every other chore
I was fine, but I simply could not bring myself to do
any kind of gardening. Every time I was forced to do
that chore, I felt a searing pain in my back as if I
was being whipped.
night, I was awakened from a nightmare by my parents.
They told me I had been shouting in an African accent:
"Don't hurt me again!" Ever since that night
I have had many visions of hard labour, cotton fields
and a great big wooden ship. Some nights I see a burning
crucifix, and ghostly white figures. I wake up with
chafed wrists; coincidentally, I have birthmarks on
came to a head when my parents were watching a TV documentary
about slavery. Apparently, although I don't remember
doing so, I looked at the screen when images of slave
ships appeared and said, "That's how I got here."
believe that I am the reincarnation of an African slave
from the early 19th century. This revelation has scarred
me for life. I am white.
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Posted March 24, 2013