I paid the ten cent bus fee and plopped down in the dirty, second seat to the front, not even caring that I really wasn’t supposed to be there. As I sat, I watched the world passing by through the window. I saw the people walking their dogs and riding their bikes, the people shopping and pushing strollers. But right there in front of me, there was also the double standards; the constant reminder that we were second class citizens. I saw the two different water fountains; one marked “colored,” the other “white.” I saw the black boys playing baseball in an empty lot, having continuously been kicked off the actual field. I saw the two races pass each other in the street, how they would purposely not look at each other, pretending to be distracted. And I was fed up with it all. Could no one see how pointless, how stupid it all was? It frustrated me to no end. So, maybe I had an excuse for the stupid thing did next. Then again, maybe not. All I know is that when that awful bus driver growled at me to get up from my seat in the front to make room for a white man, I said no. Stupid girl. What did it get me? Certainly not the seat on the bus.

“Excuse me?” the man asked, bewildered.

“I said no.” I repeated.

He didn’t know what to say.