Born a Crime

time. It had a nightclub with a
rotating dance floor on the top
floor. It was an exhilarating time
but still dangerous. Sometimes the
restaurants and clubs would get
shut down, sometimes not.
Sometimes the performers and
patrons would get arrested,
sometimes not. It was a roll of the
dice. My mother never knew whom
to trust, who might turn her in to
the police. Neighbors would report
on one another. The girlfriends of
the white men in my mom’s block
of flats had every reason to report a
black woman—a prostitute, no
doubt—living among them. And you