One sunny morning in Montgomery, Alabama where Maddie, her mom Tracy, and her dad Tyrone live. They are the average African-American family living in a low income neighborhood in the 1950’s and this is their story.

“Get up, let’s go. It’s time for school!,” said mom. I woke up slowly, I felt unusually drowsy today. As if something was telling me to not wake up, but I had to anyway. Ms. Stock said she wasn’t playin’ and that I better have my quiz corrections today or it was a failure. I really needed to get up. Mama don’t like it when I fail. I usually get the paddle when that happens. Anyways, I went downstairs to get some breakfast but pops was rushing me out the door. Turns out I was woken up late.

We hopped into our old rickety pickup truck and daddy started driving. That split second I got a chill down my spine, but thought nothing of it. When we were at the corner of Jones and Hannon we hit a red light. What happened right then and there was frightening. Almost too frightening to write about. I’m sitting there in the back seat finishing my last workbook page when I hear the threatening sound of glass breaking. “You’re gonna die today n*****!” Those were the only words I heard as I dove to the floor. Then, Bang! A gunshot blasted through the truck only to leave a dull thud behind it. Silence...
My dad’s funeral was anything but closure. It was held at my grandfather’s house. My mom was mourning the most, aside from me, them two were married for twenty some years. Its has to hurt to have your long time partner for who you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with go that way. During the services, a white man walked by the house, and noticed that there was a negro funeral going on. He picked up a rock and launched it through the living room window. The window shattered, and it hit my Uncle Carmine in the leg.
He angrily got up, picked up his bat, and chased that dude down the street. Uncle Carmine came back with bloody knuckles. I didn’t ask, no one did.

The next day at school, after the funeral it totally felt like everyone was against me even the teachers. I didn’t understand it. Everyone that I talked to had something snarky to say. Even the black ones. I want people to understand that I’m a nice, sweet person but the only thing people see is my skin. It’s disturbing me.
It disturbed me so much, and it went on for so long that mama had to homeschool me. I couldn’t handle the racial pressures from anyone anymore. One day when I was home sick from school I had a little realization moment where I knew that I actually had no reason to live anymore. I’m black, short, and everyone despised me for the color of my skin. I took a razor from my dad’s old closet. I thought that I would be able to go through with it. I tried and tried, but I just couldn’t, the thought of leaving my mom was too overwhelming. I just could not.

For the next few years it was hard getting by without pops. My mom was definitely the hardest one hit, but when this country started to become integrated some of that ol’ burden was lifted because I knew that daddy would smile if he could. During the country's change my family was going through one too. My mom just told me that her friend that she’s been seeing for a while asked her to marry him. She said yes.

I wasn't too happy about my mom getting committed to another man that is not my father, but just like I told her If it makes her happy then I’m happy for her. These aren’t even half of the struggles of the average African-American.