- Forum Clout
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Come on over and sit on Uncle Floyd's lap. It's time for a story; one I may have already told but fuck it. (tl;dr Black people are crafted with violence and explosive rage they can't control, yet we for some reason have to accept it.)
In fifth grade gym class the boys were on one side of the room shooting hoops. Girls on the other. Our black gym teacher Ms. Cole (coal, haha) came over to check in on ours. As she arrived a kid named Anthony threw up a brick that ricocheted off the rim - hard- and struck Ol' Black Cole in one massive tit.
I laughed. Not even sure if it was a howl, a hoot, or a holler could have been a whoop, maybe even a chuckle or snort, but it was enough to trigger Cole's fury. She turned towards me, we locked eyes and she charged me like a bull. She grabbed me by each arm. One second I was touching hardwood, the next I was lifted three feet into the air and slammed back into a wall of collapsible wooden bleachers.
Everyone in the gym went silent. I can only remember one thing after hitting the ground: looking over at Anthony and he had a look of horrified incredulity on his face. I don't know if I cried, if Cole stormed off, if I went to the nurse. But when I got home I told my parents. I don't know what was said, or the mood in the room after I said anything. A big deal didn't seem to be much made of it. Maybe behind closed doors my parents exchanged a few "fucking niggers" where my 10-year-old ears were spared.
But we DID go talk to the principal, (Mr Cohn))), but it was pointless. She wasn't disciplined and we didn't get any sort of compensatory treatment. It was never spoken of again. It was as if it never happened at all.
Mr. Cohn. I thought he was my nigga. One recess he pitched kickball for us and I turned a triple play. I can still hear him shout with amazement and pride. My nigga... He brought up that play every time he saw me in the hallways. But he wasn't my nigga. He was a shifty Jew looking out for his nigger cunt bitch and himself.
Also: This is a student?!
