I was only six years old, the youngest of five girls. Every Sunday my family would go out to a restaurant and we would always have to stand by a sign that said, “colored.” I never knew what it meant until I was old enough to understand; however, when I would ask my mother what the sign meant she would always answer …show more content…
My sisters and I were homeschooled, so we didn’t have many friends except families and neighbors. My mother was a residential maid. Her job was to go to white peoples’ house to clean, and then comes back home afternoon to take care of us. My father works early mornings building railroad tracks, and other various things on afternoons, therefore, he would come home late at night when everyone’s asleep. He passes by each room gives us good night kisses on the forehead. Sometimes I would be awake when he comes home, I would secretly tiptoe behind him to scare him, but he would always hear me, picks me up, takes me back to my bed and reads me a bedtime story, which his stories were always about the future. My parents are hard workers trying to save up money for my sisters and Is’ education in the future, going into college or university. They taught us to dream big for our future, so we would live a better life, and I thought big because I wanted to become a …show more content…
There wasn’t even one person different; we are all African Americans in that church. I saw things differently after my sisters taught me about the world, because when I went out and looked into the eyes of a white person, they all made the same disgusted face expression, which made me furious. I felt someone tugging on my arm, when I turned to look who it was, the first thing I saw was my mother’s eyes wide open like it 's about to pop out, she puffed at me very loud because of people 's reaction. I was craving for burgers that day, so I begged my parents to take us to The Burger Chef, it was the most popular place to eat during the 1950s. There were other diner restaurants that had signs up on the side of a door that says, “No dogs, Negros, or Mexicans,” but The Burger Chef was one restaurant that allowed African Americans. I entered the first one waited a few seconds for the rest to catch up, then we got seated and ordered our meals, I ordered the cheeseburger with fries, and the rest ordered, hamburgers, big shef, and milkshakes. Right after we finished our lunch, we headed out to the house, because my cousin, William, and Aunt Helen were coming