Thoughts on race by a biracial girl

BY ASHLEY FRAY

My first memory of discussing about race was when I was 5 years old. My African-American father sat me and my sister down and gave us a speech on race. “You are proud Afro- Americans. Never trust a white man and never marry him. He’ll turn you into a slave somehow.” I gazed with deep intent.
Absorbing every vibe. I decided to take my father’s advice somehow.
One day, I can’t remember the date, my father chaperoned a trip to the Como Zoo in St. Paul. I saw a little white boy about my age. I remember his name as Jeff. Thinking my father would be proud I took a running jump and kicked Jeff dead in his back. I thought my father would be proud. I thought I was fighting back against Jeff turning me into his slave somehow. Instead I got an abrupt talking to. I was never to do that in public again. My father was stern. I never did that again, but yes, I kept in the back of my mind that I would have to pay whites back somehow.