I will never allowed them to break my spirit

Running Alone Within a crowded world, I lived my life alone. Some dreams were fulfilled in unexpected ways. Often, I believed I’d found my true calling, yet reality unfolded differently. I existed in the sheltered confines of my truth— the road, the pain, the silent games of survival in a sometimes hateful America. Disappointment etched on faces, three years to secure a decent job, odds and ends to make ends meet. I recall an agency assignment: a two-year-old toddler without ears. Her white parents, handed a challenge, failed to change their ways. When lunchtime arrived, they said, “Step outside to eat; we’re Jewish.” I listened, smiled, and walked away, never to return. Racism, pain, and low expectations— I vowed that no white person would feel what I felt that day. I quit the agency, guided by my grandfather’s wisdom. Sanity demanded distance from those who’d deny my humanity. And so, I moved forward, my black hands never again touching that white baby. For I had lived my life alone, seen it, and flushed it from my mind. In this world of bigots, I stood firm, resilient, and unyielding. A bigot, intolerant of differing beliefs, could not break my spirit.