The white mother, whose name was Rachel, lightly stroked my son's black curly hair and kissed him on his cheek. 'He is beautiful. They both are, aren't they?'
I nodded in agreement, they were such adorable babies, and so alike. Both had the same dark brown, milk chocolate skin, both had large deep brown eyes and thick, curled black hair- they were both devastatingly enchanting. We were blessed that despite us being white girls with pale milk skin, our submissive genes allowed us to give birth to sons so distinctively African.
'Dequan was conceived in the same bar as your son and they both probably have the same daddy.' I was startled, my baby had a brother! I shouldn't have been so surprised really, those black men who raped and made me pregnant clearly had done it before.
'Leroy was imprisoned for a crime he says he didn't commit, and my father, racist and as bigoted as the best of them, helped ensure Leroy was found guilty. But while my father won the battle, he didn't win the war. He underestimated Leroy.
As soon as he was released, he sought me out in the pet parlor I worked in, and seduced me with his winning dark brown eyes and his easy charm. Five minutes and I was won. He told me to meet him in a bar-the bar. I knew my daddy wouldn't approve, but I was nineteen, a grown woman and I would choose who to date.' |