Email to Al Sullivan



�People say white folks have it easy.

But poor folks got it tough no matter what the skin color, except when hooking up with welfare, where niggers don=t get stared at as much. Black or white, you have to work hard to survive the street. People say a white man should get any job he wants or make people trust him just by putting on new clothes, changing our characters with a brush or comb. They think we can put down a switch blade and pick up a wrench, just like that, taking up the straight & narrow without help or education. Go up to college and ask to get in and they look at you like you=re crazy.

ABut you=re not black!@ they say, and tell me to find a job and earn my way, blaming me for all that talk white people handed black people about picking ourselves out of the gutter by our bootstraps.

�My pa used to talk like that, between drinks lecturing me about how if I wanted something bad enough and worked for it long enough I=d have it, though I got scars all over my head from banging against that wall, and scars up and down my arms from the needle. But I quit that, got a job, and was pretty proud of myself, too, until one day this suit & tie nigger says he=s now my boss. I=m not saying I=m better than him, or that some nigger didn=t deserve to be boss, but he just sort of slipped by me, someone high up somewhere saying the time=s come to have a nigger boss.

I didn=t cause trouble. I accepted it. I=d had enough trouble in my life without causing more. I figured if he could live with me, well then, I could live with him.

�But when he started lording over me as if he=d earned his job, I got pissed. Maybe he knew I didn=t like him and wasn=t afraid of him, and wouldn=t listen to him unless what he said made sense. I certainly didn=t think he was anybody important, and then he got peeved, riding my back day after day to make me understand my place. He didn=t understand. He didn=t come up from the street the way I did or know what kind of beast I=d whipped to behaving inside me. But day after day, he rode me and day after day I wished him dead.

�Until one day he rode me too hard and I did just what the witnesses say.

�And now you=re telling me that no man=s ever been executed for killing a nigger before and that somebody ought to start paying the price for all those niggers who=d died before. And I say, maybe that=s right, maybe somebody ought to start, but why does that somebody have to be me?


monologue menu

Innocents on the Road Menu

Xmas Menu

garley Menu

hipcities menu

monologue menu

Main Menu

email to Al Sullivan