New Book, Old Poem for #blacklivesmatter

Below is a short story and poem I wrote for a blog contest 2 years ago. I came in 3rd and was very pleased. Please click here if you’d like to read the other wonderful submissions in the contest. They have nothing to do with #blacklivesmatter. The theme of the contest was Fall and Winter.

I felt like this was a good time to share this story here. Though the title speaks of the fall season in 1954, the fictional story I’ve written wouldn’t have taken place until 3 or 4 years later at best (most likely much later). I chose the title year of 1954 because that’s the year the supreme court ruled that segregation in schools was unconstitutional. For my story, I imagine the law changing in May, and in the Fall, a young black woman finds herself the only black student in an all-white school.

THE FALL OF ’54

Shay stared at the blank paper and sighed. The bell would ring soon, and she’d have nothing to turn in. “Write something,” her teacher had said, “something that the season inspires in you.” Shay had watched as her classmates, the children who looked nothing like her, all dove into their assignments with glee.

“If only they were me,” she thought, as she turned and stared out the window. Shay fought the smile threatening to lift the corners of her mouth when seeing another class at play. How happy they all looked. Running and jumping around. And then, she saw something that brought on a new battle.

Shay fidgeted in her seat, twisting her frown into the semblance of indifference as she watched the children begin to pick up leaves. Back and forth they ran, sharing and trading, all trying to gather as many unique samples as possible. Two boys gathered close to the window could be overheard, “This one’s almost the color of my boots and this one has streaks of red. “

Shay repeated the words in her head, “the color of my boots and streaks of red.” She looked around the room, for the first time noticing the seasonal decorations. She even dared to glance at the flyer for the Harvest ball to be held at the end of the week, the ball no one had expected her to attend. Who could she possibly go with anyway? No one else looked like her.

The ticking of the clock snapped Shay back to the urgency of her assignment. “Write something that the season inspires in you.” If she didn’t write something soon, she’d be in trouble and sent to detention again. At least this time, she’d actually have done something to earn it.

Shay sighed heavily and picked up her pencil. When a girl nearby looked her way, Shay turned her eyes and focused on her paper. With one more glance at the children outside, Shay began to write. When the bell rang, Shay turned in her paper.

With his red pen in hand, Shay’s teacher decided to start with her paper.

Red, and yellow, and orange, and more,
All the colors, from sky to floor.
Heaped, and swept, and piled, and raked,
A mother yells, “For goodness sake!”

Floating and flying, drifting on by,
A mosaic scattered across the sky.
Gathered and bundled, twisted, and tied,
A perfect decoration, out or inside.

Smooth or cracked, pointed, or flat,
Tiny and round, thick on the ground.
Brown, and copper, walnut, and cherry,
Gold, and plum, rustic and merry.

Colors and shades, hues galore,
The beauty of fall, they all adore.
The colors of fall on things that don’t speak,
The colors of race, so long left weak.

Colors adored for decoration,
Colors singled out for oppression.
Colors of nature deemed a beauty to see,
Why can’t they see that beauty in me?

When Shay’s teacher was finished with her paper, he placed the red pen in his drawer.

The Fall of ’54 – 2018 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas

Also, I’ve written and illustrated another children’s book. I actually wrote it two years ago but never illustrated it. I wrote it to help me cope with issues I’ve seen and am experiencing. I’ve always used my writing to help me cope and this was meant for just that. I never had the intention to share this with anyone. I wrote this for myself and did not consult beta readers or editors. I’m only putting it out now because I want the world to be clear about where I stand. As an author, we are told not to get political unless we write about politics for fear it will cost us readers. At this point, any readers who don’t get the #blacklivesmatter movement probably weren’t supporting me anyway. So, here it is…

It’s cold outside, why can’t I wear a hoodie?

Why do people follow me at the store?

There’s no easy way to explain racism, especially to young kids, but the sooner kids learn the truth, the better they can combat it and work to help make changes.

This is a light, yet serious, story about perceptions. This book was written to help parents start the race conversation with their children, whatever their race or skin color may be.

Don’t avoid the race talk. As with many things in life, if you don’t talk to your kids about race, someone else will. Someone else may shape your child’s point of view on race, if you don’t.

Amazon.com– $2.99 eBook | $9.99 Paperback

Add this book to your Goodreads.com bookshelf here.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords #blacklivesmatter

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