people were supposed to speak. So
colored people thought that I
thought I was better than them.
They would mock my accent, like I
was putting on airs. “Dink jy, jy is
grênd?” “You think you’re high
class?”—uppity, people would say in
America.
Even when I thought I was
liked, I wasn’t. One year I got a
brand-new bike during the summer
holidays. My cousin Mlungisi and I
were taking turns riding around the
block. I was riding up our street
when this cute colored girl came
out to the road and stopped me. She
smiled and waved to me sweetly.