While it might have been “just hair” to me, the emotions were far more tangled for them, with roots deep into the history of oppression between our two peoples.
When we stepped into the next parking lot, she took my hand again. “It’s good we’re wearing our shoes,” she said. “We match. That way, people know we belong together.”
Mississippi has the largest population of African Americans in the United States, and the color line seems to be drawn in permanent ink or, perhaps, in blood. Because of this, I always believed I would never go back after my daughters came home from Haiti.