Sweet Like Chocolate

Prologue

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"You dumb bitch!"

"Honey, please, the kids are sleeping!"

"I don't care! How could you do this?!"

"He needed - "

"I don't care what he needed! You shouldn't let them type a people in this household, Sharron!"

"He was begging, what did you want me to do, Jefferson!?"

"Let that nigger starve! They always beggin' and pickin', we ain't got anything to do with they needs!"

What is a nigger?

"Don't use them words 'round my children!"

"Oh, they gonna know the difference between a person and a nigger! They  eleven and ten years old!  Kelly and Edward not gonna be associating with them people!"

What type of people?

"Jefferson, where are you goin'?!"

I heard footsteps towards my room, and I didn't know what else to do but squeeze my eyes shut like I was off sleeping. My room door swung open, and in came my father.

"Get up, Edward."

"Where we goin', daddy?" My little voice had asked.

"I'm 'bout to explain to you somethin' we should have taught you years ago, son."

"Don't take him out of there, Jefferson!" Mama had yelled from the kitchen.

"Shut the hell up, Sharron!" Ain't no words came out of her after that.

He pulled me into the living room and sat me on the couch. He knelt down so that he was starring me straight in the eyes. Sweat was dripping down his face, and his eyes were bloodshot red over top of his green irises. He breathed heavy. Heavy enough for me to smell the Budlight in his breath.

"Listen to me, son. There are different types of people in this world. You got, you got, the people who deserve to be here. Then you got another type of people."

I whipped the crust my from eyes and yawned as he spoke to me. "Them people called niggers. You know what niggers look like, son?"

"No, daddy."

"Niggers got ugly skin. Some of 'em got big ass lips. They got darker skin then you, me, and your ma. Anything darker than this," he pulled out my arm and pointed to my wrist. "Is evil, and only deserves to be spat on."

He went on and on that night, about how Black people weren't good enough in this world, that they only wanted to take our jobs, and they were the worst type of people. He painted them as creatures, dogs if you call it, and we were their owners. He said that they weren't near our equals - they were 1/4th a human. They lied, never took anything serious, and were always late on the few times that they were needed. Under all that skin, personality, and nappy hair, they were Niggers.

Ever since then, my entire mindset was changed about the African American community. Even now, at the age of twenty-five. Niggers, are Niggers. Wait, let me change that. niggers, are niggers. No need for upper-casing it.