Imagining. Being black-skinned.

If I were black instead of white. I mean, the same person. Except for a change in skin color. Thing is, I wouldn’t be the same person. Because my experiences would have been dramatically different. I would have been denied many, many opportunities. Only because of my skin color. That would have frustrated me.  Most likely, made me downright angry. To be denied so very much. Simply because of my skin color. My life was made easier. Because I’m white. There’s no denying it. Ever since I was a youngster, I’ve imagined. Being black. Right here in America. It’s unfair. The way black people have been treated. When I went to work in Florida. In the 1960s. I’d not have landed my job with the local newspaper. If I had been black. I’d not have been able to stay in a white motel. Or eat in a white restaurant.  Or swim at the white beach. Or drink out of the white fountain.  Even today, I’d feel discriminated against. Maybe in more subtle than overt ways. I’d sure as heck not want to live in Ferguson, Missouri.  In fact, I’d avoid a whole lot of places in the USA. That’s the way it is. When imagining. That I’m black-skinned. –Jim Broede