Color Blind

By Mary Aggie

This is a very good book for the broken hearted and the hopeful. It deals with abuse and women or men that maybe recovering from abuse. This book will pick you up and entertain you. You won't be able to put it down. This is a short essay of stories and life choices. Get ready to laugh and be encouraged page after page. You will never read a book like this again. Straight from the heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Aggie
• Release date: Feb 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301868261

Mary Aggie

My name is Mary Alice Barnes Aggie; and I was raised in Waterloo New York. I am the seventh child of eighteen siblings. These books of poetry and short stories were written by me; through my lengthy communication with the Holy Spirit. I hope these words will inspire, encourage, and open the eyes of believers and non-believers to the reality that God may not only be talking to me, but to you also.

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Color Blind

Mary Barnes Aggie

Copyright 2013 Mary Barnes Aggie

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Pink Barrettes

I thought they were pretty as I marched down that hall with black shiny shoes and darkened skin. I was proud to be in Junior High even if I was going to be the only black child in the school freedom had come. I thought I had finally gotten away from the cruelty of my former teachers until she called my name. Barnes She was an old prejudice cracker from the days when hatred was taught to small children and they engaged in every racist act against a human being like it was the golden rule.. She looked at me as though I was invisible. One look from those hateful eyes and I knew no barrettes, straightened hair, or shiny shoes could cover my darkness You’re on my territory now she said as she looked down at me. You will learn to do it my way; you will obey get in the back of the room. I turned looking at the white children in my class as they stared back at me as if daring me to speak up for myself. In the back was a table where I sat with two other poor white children, One had oily hair with tissues in his ear while the other had soiled clothing and smelled of urine. I learned early on that we had no rights, even to go to the bathroom. I would stare at those bathroom passes and watch the children touch them over and over again. A smiling white girl and boy hanging on a string seemed to be mocking us from a distance. The teacher would watch us squirm, especially after lunch. We had to sit in class while the others went to the bathroom without restrictions; whereas the three of us sat there and wriggled and crossed our legs. She seemed to gain power from watching us squirm, but unlike the other two I refused to wet my pants. I can’t I would say, she wants to see if I can hold it, and I refused to give her one more reason to hate me even more. She waited with anticipation to lash out at the first sign of me losing control. Suddenly she hollered my name; I looked at the poor white child to see urine under his chair. She smiled as she walked towards me and her face changed, when she saw it wasn’t me. She saw weakness in her own kind. not me. She thought she could break me but I never did. I refused to give her what she wanted. Even learning was a challenge. It was her job to ensure that I didn’t learn one thing from