In the spring of 1966, I met my best friend Anne.  She was a rambunctious kind of girl who came from a nice white, upper-class, high-society family and had everything a girl could want.  As a matter of fact, she really wanted for nothing; spoiled rotten as could be. She was real girly on the outside; an outward appearance that didn’t match the tough kid on the inside.  Her hair was a flock of golden curls, her skin bursting with freckles, and her personality, well it had quite a bad kid attitude.  She was one of those bully kind; the ones your mamma told you to stay away from.  But, what kid listens to their mamma?  Anyway, we took to one another her and I.

Not long after, I found that Anne wasn’t so bad. She had a real soft spot for the niggers in town. That word still bothers me, but when you grow up in a small southern Georgia town, you don’t think much of it. My house was on the edge of town not far from the “separation.”  The whole feeling of things changed when you got near that place.

Ellie lived on the other side of the tracks, where all the niggers lived. We had a maid named Martha who worked for my grandparents.  My Grandaddy would drive cross those tracks some days when he would take Martha home.  We’d beg him to pick up Ellie on his way back to town cause we liked her. The people in Anne’s neighborhood weren’t so keen on niggers though. We couldn’t get a good playtime in before they’d make a raucous and back to the “other” side she’d go.  We never could understand what the problem was.  

One day not long after, Mamma got a call that there had been a situation with Ellie.  I could tell by her face that there was something wrong.  Then the tears started. Mamma started to talk, quietly at first, then through sobs.  She said that Ellie was gone.  I didn’t understand.  I thought maybe she’d run away.  She had talked about doing that a lot, but we never took no mind to it.  We all threatened lots of things when we were young.  We did it mostly for attention, or to get our way about something, but most of us never really meant those things that we said.  

Turns out, Ellie really was gone.  She was dead.  They found her body on the tracks. I found out later, that she’d had on that pretty blue dress with the white Peter Pan collar.  It had plaids of dark green through it and had a sweet little belt that matched.  Ellie had told us once that it was her favorite dress.  She had put it on that morning so she wouldn’t have to change for a party that afternoon.  But, she never made it to the party.  I just thought she changed her mind about coming. Anne’s older brother had been giving Ellie a time at school.  He hung around a bad group of boys. I didn’t like those boys at all.  They hated niggers.  That word still bothers me.  Anyway, when they found her, she had been beaten black and blue.  Her skull had been crushed in with a big rock, and her dress torn.  I knew it was those bad boys, but we didn’t discuss it.  Mamma just gave me a hug and said she was better off.  She told me to run on and forget about her; nothing I could do for her now.  But I never forgot her; I never forgot.

They had an investigation but nothing was found out.  They just said she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, poor thing, and that she had met an untimely departure from this world.  It made me mad, cause I knew that those bad boys had done it, and got away with it.  They were protected, those white boys were.  And Anne never did say too much after.

It’s been 23 years since that day.  Funny how it came up again.  Anne and I were getting ready for a ladies’ social in town and her little girl came rushing in to give her mamma a hug.  She had on a sweet blue dress with big plaids of green running thru it.  My mind flashed back to that day.  I was paralyzed with the thought, but Anne didn’t notice my face.  I could hardly speak.  It all came back while listening to Anne laugh with delight at her little girl. It was that laugh.  On that day after school, those boys took hold of Ellie walking home.  We were trying to sneak her back to Anne’s, but those boys threw rocks at us and I ran on.  I ran and ran ‘til I could run no more. But I heard Anne laugh.  I looked back as they were dragging her into those woods.  I heard Ellie scream then it got real quiet.  All except for Anne’s laughing.  It didn’t stop.  And at that moment, I knew what had happened.  I knew that she’d gotten those boys to do that.  I knew she had gotten her brother to head it up.  I couldn’t believe what came back that day.  I couldn’t believe I had turned my mind from it, blocked it out all these years.  She’d hated niggers too.  That word still bothers me….

sigh. The story, needs some corrections, and cleaning up, but impressive and very very very very sad. However, I don't think you need to use that word. I just don't, I don't think it adds anything that would be taken away from the story, if you didn't use it. Honestly, it made really not consintrate on the story at all, except for fact that you used it. Sorry, don't think that I'm angry, I just don't think you should use it.

I second not using it. Made me want to not read it at all...lo siento senorita.

Hi EB,

  This story has sat for a long time now. Unfortunately, and I am not sure where you have grown up, but the use of this word is still rampant in many parts of the South.  I despise the word; it bothers me to the core to say it, to think it, to express it.  I have never understood it, could never wrap my brain around it.  But it is factual, and my point in using it was to make some uncomfortability in the story.  Thiis is pretty raw, and I agree needs some work, but I decided to jump off the diving board with this one and see where it went.

Thanks for your input.  Hope you understand where I am coming from too.

Laura

Hi Joseph,

  Again, the word evokes sadness and quite frankly anger in post segregation individuals.  Unfortunately it should piss off anyone who sees it.  But as I said, this kind of racism is still around, and it makes me mad.  I would like to get some feeling about what people think before removing the word.  To me, every time I read it, it bothers me.  Honestly, the use of this word is inexcusable, but the whole point of my story was to bring out emotion on this very issue along with the fact that this kind of thing actually did happen.  

I bide my time and stick to this one for now....

Laura

Laura, the true test to the validity of you using that word will be from the opinions of the black members here at poetry circle. I, for one, am whiter than paper.

Joseph,

  Yes perhaps you are right Joseph, but the fact remains there are individuals in this world, and in this country who think nothing of the use of the word.  It turns my stomach with each use, and I am always disgusted that it even still exists in this country, but it does.  My point was not to rowl up the restless native white folks, but to present a story, true to its time, where the lingo and language used was of common nature.  I see that it may put some in an uproar, but I am not the enemy here.  I agree that it is painful to hear.  But I think you have missed the point.

Laura

First I'd like to respond to your comment.  I disagree with the use of rampant.  Being in my 50's and born in Savannah, to a father from Ochlocknee, Georgia, raised in Atlanta, and married into a Sand Mountain, Alabama family, I can call myself an expert on Southern colloquial expressions. I am old enough to remember segregated water fountains, bathrooms, etc.  Today even in small towns, such as Horton, Alabama the word is rarely used in public. Yes, I'll admit I hear it OCCASSIONALLY in private homes from elderly folk.  I won't say NEVER but I'll stand by RARELY. 

The only time I hear the word in Atlanta is on rap radio/TV or from African-Americans on the street to each other.  Sure bigotry still exists but it's not the same as the era you describe. Rarely overt; it's hidden, covered up, layered in the culture.

I hope that you are using the word to create an atmosphere; to point out how separate you were from the culture of the era; how niave you were, but I agree with the others that it's not necessary. The word has its place in story and lore but perhaps you haven't approached it in a skillful enough manner.

Don't take this the wrong way but IMO it's almost as if you use the story as an excuse to use the word.  Why not re-read TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee? It's also a coming of age story about a young girl dealing with bigotry.

Now that I got my opinion off my chest - look at it this way.  If you take the word completely out of the story nothing suffers. Not the plot, not the atmosphere, not the characters.  Also, it seems to be evoking an opposite response from the one you intended. 

Laura. This is a tough one. Because I am trying, my best, to look at it from your angle. And I don't want to come across as, for lack of a better word, pissed off or mean, because I'm not, I'm concerned, but seriously, its like I said before, this piece, with a little (LITTLE) bit of cleaning up could be great and I can see maybe (MAYBE) using it once, but it kills the story using it over and over. And for me, its really offensive, that you would say you hate the word so much, but yet, you still put it in the story for effect? Effect? If that's how you think that word should be used, then I don't what. That word should be history, it should be in the past, for us to learn from,  how harmful and painful society can be, and to prevent any repeats. It should not be used in a short tale about racism in the south on a poetry website. Do you understand where I am coming from? It doesn't matter where I grew up, I know, that even though brothers and sisters around me might still fling that word around, that, that is ignorance and that word should be used to learn from, not thrown around in stories or everyday language. That word is for history and to learn from.
I'm sorry Laura, I just think your better than that.

Yes Laura, we understand it is rather difficult for you to say...then i would say...don't say it! would it not be a bigger statement to yourself and to the word itself to not use it? to not continue to propagate such filth? yes indeed...the last author to use such a word and get away with it was Mark Twain...and that was over 100 years ago.

Hi Lavonne,

  I must say that what originally brought this story forth WAS the use of the word, in the South... I too hail from around Atlanta originally, but family is from small towns south of there, and I can promise you, it is still used.  Sad, but very true.  I have relatives who still in the deep South, converse with members of the community in such a way, as well as their own family, and not just by the elderly.  Yes, you are right that it was used to evoke a mood.  I grew up in that kind of mentality but do not share it.

  I will say, I appreciate your thoughts, I share your disdain, and what I didn't want to happen was for this story to turn into some debate on the politically correct use of a word.  It happened, it was/is unfortunately in pockets of this nation still and is used.  This story takes place at a certain time.  It was never my intention ever to offend anyone.  

  I am not sure what IMO is, but you are completely incorrect that I used the story to use the word.  That is the farthest thing from my mind.  I hope you have read how I feel about it.  I think I have made myself quite clear.

Thanks... Laura

IMO - In my opinion just shorthand.  Did not mean to offend or imply that you had an ulterior motive! Meant for it to come across differently - what I as a reader perceive not what you intended.  Apologies proffered.

You have to choose your words for their impact.  Did it work for you?

Joseph,

  I am not sure about this exactly so I won't be quoted, but didn't Margaret Mitchell use the word in her story Gone With the Wind?  I suppose when telling her story it might have had a bit of a different spin had she used a different one?  I would have to find my copy of the book, but I think she got away with it.  Now, please don't go on a tangent about how I am not Margaret Mitchell, but you did say the last to use it and get away with it was Mark Twain 100 years ago.  If memory serves me correct though, I believe it was eliminated on the set of the movie for the African American crew in the late 30's. 

OK, here's a thought.  The way you use the word seems unnatural.  You tell the story fromthe child's point of view.  In my experience, children are more influenced by their parents than by the people outside their family.  A child's behavior is molded by the punishment received.  Remember the line from the South Pacific song: You've got to be carefully taught. 

So it would make sense for you to have other characters speaking the word. But it doesn't work when the child, i.e. your memory, uses the word. It just doesn't fit. 

Like I said before, if you take the word out your story loses nothing.  I would just rethink how you use it.  A little goes a long way.  Once in the title grabs the attention and draws your readers in but overusing it in the story turns readers away.

I think you've got a beginnings of a good story.

Ok Lavonne, I will give it some thought....  I don't want to lose the story, I just need to think about how to do it.

Thanks, Laura