“You been robbed!”
For Black History Month this year, I’m going to tell some little-known stories of prejudice in America. They are little known, because they’re stories from my life. These are my racist sins. The story I’m going to tell you now happened in about 1966.
All five of us were in the car. Dad was just about to turn into the driveway upon our return from a cross-country vacation trip to see Grandpa and Grandma. Jeff was playing with his two brothers and his little sister in front of their house, across the street from ours. It was a hot summer day, and our car didn’t have air conditioning, so all of the windows were down.
“You been robbed!” Jeff shouted, and his brothers and sister chimed in. “You been robbed!”
Dad parked the car and we all got out. Jeff and the others ran across the street to our driveway, and Jeff showed us what he was talking about. The back door of our house had a large glass window in the top half. The glass was broken. The thief had broken the glass, reached in, and unlocked the door.
Dad told the neighbor kids to go back home, and then my parents and my two brothers and I all went inside. The burglar apparently smashed the window with his bare hand, because there were drops of blood here and there throughout the house, and a couple of man-sized bloody…