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A Former Immigrant Juvenile's Feelings and Views On Race and Color In America

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This sonnet more or less summarizes my memories and feelings of growing up in the South in America as a half-white, half-Vietnamese boy raised by an African-American, soldier step-father and a Vietnamese mother during the 1970's era after emigrating from South Vietnam as the Vietnam War still raged on.

During the '70's, deep in the South, I was white but raised black by a black man. As a boy, I have watched the Ku Klux Klan on the news—and was frightened as a youth who was “black.” In those times, it was uncouth and a mark of disgrace to be less than the child of a white mother and white man: even back then I felt that racist truth. Two-score years have passed and I’m still confused, troubled, and unclear as to what or how I should be: am I white—or “black” (abused by my black "dad," I relate to him now—.)? It’s joyless being me—unhinged like this: but feeling more black, I hate prejudice.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Book: Shattered Sighs