Narrative Essay: Jim Crow's New Law

“Hey Isaac,” My mom called to me, “Why don’t you go over to Ian’s house?”

“I don’t want to get caught.” I called back. Ian was a white boy, about my age, who I had been friends with for most of my 11 years of life. Recently, Jim Crow created new laws that prohibited almost every interaction between blacks and whites, I can’t even shake his hand anymore. We used to be great friends and play sports in his huge yard, but now Jim Crow stole all our fun, and replaced it with beatings.

“Alright, you’ve got a point point,” my mom sighed disappointedly. The ignorance I had for the racial segregation always sparked love in my mother’s heart, however, being ignorant now will get you jailed.

Several weeks ago, I was caught by a white when I was with Ian, and it didn't go over well. Found by my mother a few hours later, I was flooding the streets with blood after being beaten down and kicked. I had been beaten before, but now with the whites scrutinizing our every move, and backed by the law, they began to find reasons to beat me even worse. Racism had been prodded toward Birmingham like a mother sending her kids to play.

I walked down the stairs to eat breakfast with my mom, and my enthusiasm about the march knocked the food out of my mom’s mouth. After her reluctant approval of my participation in the march, I walked to school, my mind holding white fingered to the idea of the march. About halfway through the school day, my English teacher announced, “Time to march kids,” and instantaneously, the children began pouring out of the school doors and windows like a rushing river. Amidst the flow, I was happier than I had ever been, being carried away into an opportunity to change the horrible racist world I lived