She conformed to embarrassment and I remained mature, even at the age of 21 I still felt hurt by the little boys words. How in the world did he relate my physical to resemble that of a gorilla or monkey. Because I am in the age of knowing I can safely say in void of ridicule that there are some people who truly do resemble the animal species of the gorilla kingdom, but even at the innocent age of 3yrs or whatevah never in my speech do I think I would allow the false comparison between man and animal to slip through my teeth. If crayola had to group me I feel as though I would fall amongst the shades of tan, rather brown. I am still a shade of brown, but within the line of tan. The hair on my head does not cover my entire body so I still don’t get how he saw monkey in me. “right there, there with the black face”…once again color blind ignorance cuz my skin is of a brown race. Oohh I finally felt it, that’s what non-violence resistance is, I had to control confusion and maintain my composure to avoid beatin the skin off of this kid. For he was just a child, blond hair and blue eyes, and I must say, with my gorilla hands and the force of one hit he would have died. He was sitting there play fighting with his brother but paying more attention to me, as if he were trying to remember where he saw me before….i’m guessing on tv because if truth be told his air headed parents talk about my color people this way, then shame on them for allowing their sons to walk this earth, free spirited with a vocabulary of hatred. The shortest distance between disrespect of a stranger is physical because there is no further recollection of intimate memories. But, once again because he was a little boy I couldn’t bring my self to hurt his feelings. I just sat there and watched him wrongly accuse me of belonging to a family other than my own. my heart didn’t speed up, I didn’t start to sweat, didn’t feel like explaining to the little boy how he’s ignorant. I sit, I listen, I think and I speak, but when certain things that other people say leave me speechless, all I have left to do is watch. Non-violent resistance, I swear that’s what I did, but instead of resisting torture and beatings like the slaves did, I was resisting the childhood babble of this little white kid. I try to convince my self like “nah he didn’t mean it, he’s a kid, he’s only like three”, but no…he did. What makes me even more mad is that after that Saturday I will probably never see that little boy again. And furthermore when he grows up his mother won’t remind him of the incident…so he’ll in turn never know what he said, won’t be able to correct it, and I will b left to live with his lost memory. I try to be cool about the whole situation but lord knows that inside my minds heart and soul are slowly starting to turn to mush because I am incapable of understanding homeboys comparison, how dare this kid, make me feel like this…