Underneath My Skin

By Matthew Smith Jr.

This book, Underneath My Skin; explores the painful fears of exposure that millions of Black Americans who are presently passing for White experience every day of their lives. They have to weigh the advantages of their success based on their skin color and fictitious racial claim, against life as a Second Class Citizen in an unequal Black Society. Many have made the jump and taken the risk. But, there are some who have been unwillingly drawn into this life experience. Such is the case of Jennifer Reynolds, who was caught up with pleasing her parents and older brother who was already successfully passing for White in college. Jennifers mother Elizabeth was White. Her father James was a very fair skin black with curly dark brown flaxen hair himself. He often spoke of his grandfather who was Irish and his grandmother who was Negro. He was determined that his children would have the same benefits accorded to White people. Jennifers motto was, Im Black and Im proud. Jennifer was aware that there was a difference between status of White and Black People in her state and community, but she had no idea of the extreme severity until she lived the experience. She was a Black woman in a White womans body.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490741567

Matthew Smith Jr.

Matthew Smith Jr. is a retired Postmaster who dutifully served the U.S. Postal Service for over 40 years. He was part of the dramatic change in the Postal Service in acknowledging and establishing diversity in its workforce. He broke the color ranks by becoming the first African American Postmaster of a Moderate Size Post Office in Northern Ohio. As a Director of Human Resources, another rare position for an African American, he was directly involved in the "Changing Of The Guard" to be reflective of the people who worked there. Mr. Smith spent 20 years of his PostalCareer in the Labor Movement, serving as President of the Cleveland Local of NAPFE. He has distinguished himself as a Source Expert on the history of Blacks in the Labor Movement in the U.S.A. He has lectured on "Self Marketing" and "The Power Of Positive Thinking".Mr. Smith has pursued his life changing study of Metaphysics for over thirty-six years, his goal is to share everything he has learned with people, as opposed to just taking it to the grave. He received his education at Cuyahoga Community College, and Cleveland State University. "Underneath My Skin"- Shares the story of a young woman who's only dream is to become a Lawyer, or an F.B.I. Agent. The problem comes when her father a very fair Black man married to her mother a White woman, demands she pass for White when she enters Virginia Tech University. Her brother Steve who is already Passing for White, is about to graduate and has been offered a prestigious job at a well-known Architectural Firm. The year is 1989, and although it has been years since advertisement stating, "Coloreds Need Not Apply" have disappeared from the scene, the underlying racism still exist and is fuly operational. James, Jennifer's father only wants the best for their children, and is willing to sacrifice his racialpride. Jennifer, his beautiful White looking daughter Is not! Jennifer's personal motto was, "I'm Black and I'm Proud". She does finally give in not wanting her brother to lose his opportunity. She learns a lot about people of both colors when she enters a world filled with dangerous characters.

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©

Copyright 2009, 2014 Matthew Smith Jr.

Cover illustration by Othello Bell

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Any similarities to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4155-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4157-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4156-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014912485

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Trafford rev. 07/11/2014

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CONTENTS

Foreword

Dedications

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Epilogue

FOREWORD

Being a black person in White controlled America is an experience unto itself. While all children are born innocent of racism and the inhumane way that people treat other people, it doesn’t take long into their growth process for their little minds to be indoctrinated with the hard fact that being black is not the same as being white. While there has been a substantial change as it relates to equality, the hard fact remains; we are still a very long way off from reaching our utopian dream. In the past especially in the South parents made sure their children knew their place, and what was expected of them by White’s in control. Radio, Television, Newspapers, and Movies, all displayed White people in dominant and controlling positions within our society. The Klu Klux Klan was a reminder of what could happen to us when we got out of their established line.

As a little boy in Texas, I used to hear the old people say, If you White, you right… If you Brown, stick around… If you Black, git back! And, if one of us little Black children didn’t understand where our place was, our elder family member drilled it into our minds until we knew exactly where it was. It was a matter of survival.

I had my own challenges as a little boy in the town of my birth, Waco, Texas. I was fair complexioned and I had light brown curly hair. I was treated differently by other darker skinned children who thought I was a Mexican, they would say, We ain’t gonna play with him, he’s a Meskin.(Mexican). The children exercised their own bias. I just walked away, in some way feeling advantaged over them for the same reason they were bias to me.

My grandfather and his youngest daughter Mattie passed for White in Waco, Texas in the early forties. They sat up front on the railcar that ran from east Waco to west Waco and were not challenged because they looked like all of the other White people. Grandpa was tall, about 6'2 which was considered tall at the time. He had dark straight hair that he wore very short. He had a big Adam’s Apple (large esophagus) which is common to White people but not to Blacks. Grandpa Hady drank a lot and was considered to be a mean man. It was not unusual for him to curse at Black or White people. They all thought he was either crazy, or drunk. I thought he was both! My aunt Mattie was very pretty, about 5'2 in height. She was very shapely with a head of reddish brown straight hair that she often wore in a ponytail.

This book, Underneath My Skin; explores the painful fears of exposure that millions of Black Americans who are presently passing for White experience every day of their lives. They have to weigh the advantages of their success based on their skin color and fictitious racial claim, against life as a Second Class Citizen in an unequal Black Society. Many have made the jump and taken the risk. But, there are some who have been unwillingly drawn into this life experience. Such is the case of Jennifer Reynolds, who was caught up with pleasing her parents and older brother who was already successfully passing for White in college. Jennifer’s mother Elizabeth was White. Her father James was a very fair skin black with curly dark brown flaxen hair himself. He often spoke of his grandfather who was Irish and his grandmother who was Negro. He was determined that his children would have the same benefits accorded to White people. Jennifer’s motto was, I’m Black and I’m proud. Jennifer was aware that there was a difference between status of White and Black People in her state and community, but she had no idea of the extreme severity until she lived the experience. She was a Black woman in a White woman’s body.

Matthew Smith Jr.

Author

DEDICATIONS

To my children, Matthew III, Teddy José, Angela Germaine, Cheryl Charisse, and Loren Edward. To Marlene, now departed. I can’t begin to tell you how much you mean to me. All of you are crazy, but you always say, The nut don’t fall to far from the tree. To my sister Gina (Emma J. Smith -deceased), you are my inspiration. Your faith in God and perseverance in the face of a multitude of health challenges was remarkable. To my brother Steve, Keep the faith. To my Aunt Mattie L. Phillips, 100 years old, we had a special relationship. To Mom, Cubie Smith, and Clara Gilchrist (Aunt) thank you for your love. To Nini(Juanita) & Hattie two great ladies. To my special friend Yvonne and family, I thank you for your love and support, I can’t say enough. To my adopted sister Teresa and her family, I thank God for allowing our paths to cross and the love we share. Lastly, to my special friends: Cecelia, Al (Very deep voice), Sandy, Barbara, Valeria, Retha, Gracye, Elma, Beatrice, Debbie, Greg, Willie, Gerald, and Cousins, Kathy and Kim. It is hard to imagine my life without you in it.

I truly love all of you.

Matthew Smith Jr.

CHAPTER 1

This is the summer of 1989. I was seated on a waiting bench at Pogue’s Blue Canyon Restaurant in Richmond, Virginia. It was always impressed on me to be on time when trying to get a job. I was on time; my interviewer was not. I considered this my first blessing as it gave me a few minutes to compose myself, after all this was my first interview for a real job since graduating from College. I didn’t count my part-time college jobs at McDonald’s and Burger King Restaurants. (Jennifer was reflecting back as she read her personal diary).

As I looked around this beautiful restaurant I wondered how it got its name. The restaurant sat on a hillside with only one small sign at the entrance of the road leading off route 84. It had the words Blue Canyon with an arrow pointing up the road. After winding around the small roadway leading to the front of the restaurant located on the backside of the hill, I could immediately see I was the only one who didn’t know about this place. The large parking lot was practically filled with cars, a number of which were Mercedes, Jaguars, and BMW’s. I meticulously parked my 1980 Ford Fairlane next to a maroon Mercedes and walked in. I was greeted and welcomed to the restaurant by a well-dressed middle-aged White man. I was asked if I had a reservation. I stated I was waiting for a Mr. George Corbin. He smiled as if he knew Mr. Corbin and stated I could sit on the bench or go inside and take a table. I opted to go inside and sit at a table.

As I sat waiting I casually glanced at the menu. Ordinarily you can get a pretty good idea of the quality of a restaurant by the cost of the food, the makeup and style of the menu, and of course the ambiance of the building itself. I was impressed in all aspects. When I saw the price of a simple Chicken Salad at eight dollars I knew I was walking in high grass (A southern term used to speak of something expensive). Each table had a white tablecloth draped meticulously around it with a flower centerpiece consisting of two red roses. The silverware was wrapped in a white cloth napkin with a brocaded emblem of an English Knight, as if to say (Fit for a King).This would certainly be a nice place to rendezvous especially if a man was trying to impress a lady, or on the down low. (Low public visibility). The building was divided into three sections. In the first section as you walked in there was a quaint little bar area made of brown mahogany colored wood resembling oak. The well-placed wall mirrors made the area look much larger than it really was. Right next to that was an open area with well-spaced tables that allowed for private conversations. Immediately adjacent to that section was a large Patio Area overlooking a small two level Lilly covered pond with water meticulously forming a small waterfall that never stopped flowing reminiscent of an unending stream. The entire motif of the restaurant was connected to Sailboats, and Canyons. Beautiful pictures of sandy beaches, the Grand Canyon, and boats hang on the walls throughout the spacious restaurant. In addition, there were several large pictures of different parts of the Grand Canyon encased in wood sculptured frames with blue borders tastefully blended in as a reminder of the Restaurants name.

It didn’t take long for me to notice the couple sitting near the Patio entrance. The gentleman was White but of a darker hew, maybe Italian, looking to be in his late fifties. He was well dressed in a gray pinstripe suit with a light gray shirt and a tri-color tie with red, black, and gray mixed in. His mixed gray beard was neatly trimmed and accented his face. It was apparent he was a man of means. She was much younger appearing to be in her late twenties. Her hair was cut short, blonde, and neatly styled. The two piece brown suit she wore with matching four inch heels seemed to be molded around her curvaceous body. It could have easily been an innocent business meeting as I was about to encounter, or a little monkey business. Oh well I thought, it’s not my business.

Many things had changed over the years in Virginia as it relates to race relations, mostly for the good. Colored people or African Americans as we were now calling ourselves still had many hurdles to overcome. Portsmouth had certainly changed. A lot had to do with the proximity to Little Creek Naval Amphibious Landing Base located a few miles away. On the weekends it looked like a snowstorm with all of the sailors coming into town in their Navy whites. And, of course there were many Blacks and other ethnic groups included in this mix. Serious problems occurred when the Black sailors tried to integrate the large Steak House Restaurant directly across from the entrance to the Base. Cross Bow’s Restaurant had survived for many years on the business from the White Sailors and a few locals who came mostly on Saturdays and Sundays. They did have one Black man washing dishes and handling all janitorial duties. He was a medium built dark complexion man in his forties with very white teeth that he enjoyed showing to the good White folks. Of course on the day of the (Black Invasion) of the restaurant old Sam made sure he kept his proper distance not wanting anyone to think he might be sympathetic to the cause. The sailors didn’t really know his name, they gave him the name of Sam, as in SAMBO. The Black Sailors along with a few of their White friends decided to do a sit-in to protest the racist conditions. They were immediately refused service and were asked to leave orderly which they refused to do. Only after the Base Commander was called and MP’s were dispatched, did they leave. A meeting was held with all of the Black Sailors & Marines on the base, and an apology was offered by the Base Commander. He stated that on the base everything and everybody were equal. But, outside of the base this was still the South and they had no control on their racist policies. They were given specific orders to avoid going to the restaurant for any reason. Some of the White Sailors who had their own agenda would go across the street and bring back steak dinners on the weekends and make sure that the Black Sailors saw and smelled the food. Several fights started from those episodes, so finally all personnel were banned. Then there was Virginia Beach with its beautiful white sandy beaches located about forty miles from the Base. This Beach was one of Virginia’s landmark sites, but again it was for White only. About half the distance between the Base and Virginia Beach was a small Beach called, Sea View. This was the Colored Beach and had no comparison to the beautiful Virginia Beach. There was a very small beach section, which was not maintained at all. A few of the locals dutifully patronized it and made the best of things. Some Black or Colored Sailors as they were called in the past would go there, but most refused.

As is tradition, where ever there are Naval Bases you will see a lot of Marines. Technically the Marines are a part of the Navy Department and receive their amphibious training there. The Black Marines encountered the same problems as the Black Sailors when it came to what they could do, or could not do because of the color of their skin.

The Marines who seemed to have the most trouble were those who lived in the Northern states and were sent south to train. To the young men who enlisted from the South, overt segregation or hidden racism didn’t seem to bother them too much. It wasn’t that they were scared to show resistance, they were programmed early in life where their place was and they accepted it, mostly for their parents who understood the system as it related to people of color, it was a way of life.

None of the Black Marines or Sailors were angry at Sam, he was trying to make it, and as long as he stayed in his place and smiled he could live a decent life, but nothing exceptional.

CHAPTER 2

So, here we are in 1989, Colored People, Negro, Black, or African American all used to describe us, can eat at any Restaurant and not have to buy their food at the back of the Restaurant and take it some-place else to eat. This had been the policy in the South before they attended integrated schools. They have Bill Cosby a Black man on national television portraying an upper middleclass successful family head. The world is changing too! The Berlin Wall has fallen changing the dynamics of Europe. On January 26, 1986, the space shuttle Challenger exploded in a massive fireball, killing all seven Crewmembers. E.T. (The Extra Terrestrial) was trying to get home. But, in the South there was still that paternalistic attitude as it related to White People controlling Black People’s roles in society. There was still plenty of inequality to go around especially in job opportunities, and upward mobility on the jobs we did get. The Black Man was still at the bottom of the totem pole, The Last Hired, First Fired.

Here I am Jennifer Reynolds in this beautiful Restaurant, a Black Woman passing for White, not because I am not proud of my race, but because of the pressures put on me by my parents and my brother. I know I am living a lie and I worry that one day it will become so comfortable I will lose focus of who I really am. It’s like you tell a lie for so long that you begin to believe the lie.

My initial interview with the Baker, Corbin, & Wilhelm Law firm went well I thought. I was told I would receive a call if I were selected as one of the finalist. The interview consisted of my talking with a tall White lady who introduced herself as Hilda the Office Manager. Hilda was a fairly attractive tall brunette about five feet ten, looking like someone from the Russian Basketball Team. She did look a little masculine to me and she had an accent that sounded European. I immediately thought of those Russian women athletes in the Olympics who looked like men and had to be tested for testosterone. The first thing I told myself, was that if I was hired, I would keep the hell out of Hilda’s way. She explained what I would be doing if I got the job. I had a degree in Criminal Justice and my ultimate goal was to become a Lawyer or FBI Agent. My plan was to start work for a Law Firm on the ground floor and work for a while to make sure this was the career I wanted while getting valuable experience, and then go on and get my Law Degree. Becoming an Agent would be my second choice.

Throughout my interview Hilda watched every move I made. She starred at me with her piercing brown eyes as I answered questions about my application. They did have a question on the application about race, I put White and felt a sickness inside my stomach. I did wonder why it was necessary to have race on it. Maybe it was some state requirement to track minority hiring I thought. Although I was as White as Hilda or any other White woman and had the same hair texture, I did have a nice black butt and slightly thicker lips. I felt a twinge of guilt as I made the checkmark White. I could never forget being given an assignment in college involving the infamous, Dred Scott Decision of 1857. We were dealing with Constitution Law and the entire class was divided into pro & con teams and given historical cases to argue. I was teamed with two White male students, Mike Gordon, and Jeff Bloomberg, both Jews. We were assigned to defend the South’s position of Slave Ownership Rights and ultimately the Supreme Court decision confirming their position. I remember saying to myself, God Why Me?

Dred Scott was the name of an African-American slave who was taken by his master, an officer in the U.S. Army, from the slave state of Missouri to the free state of Illinois, and then to the free territory of Wisconsin. He lived on free soil for a long period of time. When the Army ordered his master to go back to Missouri, he took Dred Scott with him back to the state where he was considered a slave, and where his master died. In 1846, Scott was helped by Abolitionist (anti-slavery) lawyers to sue for his freedom in court, claiming he should be free since he had lived on free soil for a long period of time. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court where Roger B. Taney a former slave owner from Maryland was Chief Justice. In March of 1857, Scott lost the decision as seven out of nine Justices on the Supreme Court declared no slave nor descendant of a slave could be a U.S. Citizen, or ever had been a U.S. citizen. As a non-citizen, the court stated Dred Scott had no rights and could not sue in a Federal Court and must remain a slave. In making this monumental decision the Supreme Court over-ruled Congress who thought it had the right to stop slavery. While a lot had changed since 1857, there were still many in the South and some in the North who could not accept Negroes as equals and it wasn’t difficult to see. That became the basis for my parent’s insistence that my brother take every advantage of our color, or should I say, Lack of color!

Finally, after a thirty-minute wait I saw this lawyer looking gentleman come through the door. His charcoal pinstripe suit, black shiny loafers, and black leather briefcase was a dead give-away. I watched him speak to the waitress, she nodded my direction and he made a b-line to my table with this big shit-eating grin on his face. I used to hear my dad use that term when he thought the grin to be artificial.

I saw him approaching me but decided to look away as if I were admiring the scenery.

Hi, you must be Jennifer! He said.

That I am. I smiled and made an effort to stand.

No, don’t get up! I apologize for being late I just got out of Court. Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m George Corbin, Senior Partner of Baker, Corbin, & Wilhelm. I never expected the case to go as long as it did, it was a simple case of –Assault & Battery—with no witnesses against my client… but he did have priors.

Very interesting Mr. Corbin… I can see your day wasn’t boring!

George Corbin was about six feet two or three with very broad shoulders, and matching good looks. He looked to be in his mid-forties. His very short crew haircut seemed to take away from his natural charm as if by design. Without trying I imagined him with a full head of hair thinking he would be quite a handful. This was not to say that a bald headed man couldn’t be handsome, I just preferred hair. Oh well, enough of that I thought.

No, they seldom are… but, away with small talk about me. I am here to have lunch and talk to you about your goals and ambitions, and whatever else is on your mind as it relates to the possibility of working for the firm. You are one of two finalist for the position.

I smiled and sat back in my chair trying to give the appearance of being confident. I had my considerably long hair in a French role, this gave me a more business appearance. By coincidence my black pin stripe suit matched his. I purposefully wore my two inch black pump heels so as not to appear as though it was cocktail hour. My V-neck white blouse reflected only a minimal view of my breast.

This is a very nice restaurant, you eat here often? I asked.

Fairly often, maybe about three times a month, I’m not sure whether you would call that often. I sometimes bring special people here for dinner. I do like the food as well as the ambiance! I thought it would be a good place to meet and interview you. Usually people are a little nervous during an interview. I thought this place might catch your eyes and make you relax a little. I prefer you being at your best, because that is what we will expect out of you if you are selected.

That statement drew me to look at his finger for a wedding ring. He didn’t have a ring on his left hand; he did have this very nice college ring on his right hand, both of which were well manicured. I kept trying to read the name of the college but he kept moving his hand as he talked. It had a big blue stone sitting in the middle of a silver mounting. I also noticed something unusual about the light colored file he had with my name printed under the plastic attachment. There were two X’s next to my name.

Excuse me Mr. Corbin.

Call me George, he quickly responded.

I can’t help but see the two X’s next to my name on your file, I was just wondering what that meant? George started laughing out loud!

Don’t worry Jennifer, that doesn’t mean you have been x’ed out! It means the other two attorneys in the firm have reviewed your file and placed their X of approval. My job is to conduct interviews with the finalist; we will then confer and make a selection. After I finish with my interrogatory I will give you an opportunity to ask any questions you have, or make any statements you might want to make on your own behalf… you know, toot your own horn!

May I ask who makes the final decision?

Actually, I do! He spoke very matter of fact leaving no doubt that (he was the man).

Just as attorney Corbin opened the folder and got ready to start the interview the young White female waitress approached the table. I watched as his eyes lifted from the folder, sizing her up with one panoramic view starting at her feet and ending at her head. She definitely looked out of place in her light tan uniform with her white shoes that appeared to be right out of the new shoebox. She looked more like someone you might see in the movies sitting at a table across from Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, especially with her blonde hair that looked to be real, and her very proportioned body and silky smooth skin.

Hi you-all doing? I’m Katie I’ll be your waitress, can I get you-all something to drink while you decide what you want to eat? Katie asked in her very southern accent, as she looked first at me and then at Mr. Corbin.

I would like ice tea with lots of lemon. I said.

Well, let’s see, Corbin pondered. I guess I’ll have coffee, black no sugar, he said, as if still not sure.

Okay, I’ll get that now… I’ll be right back for your order. Katie left and I watched the Attorney to see if he would watch her walk away, he did not and I was impressed that he was all business.

Now back to you young lady. Let me begin by telling you what we would expect of you… a little more than perhaps Hilda told you. Jennifer we do represent Negroes and other Minorities at our firm and sometimes our investigations require us to go into the Colored Section of town and that can be a little challenging you know! Would you have any problem with that?

No sir Mr. Corbin, I don’t have a problem going into any community. Right away I wondered what this was all about, him telling me I would have to go into the Colored Section of town!

Call me George, he said breaking in. I would just as soon pass on their business, I really don’t like getting involved in that–Civil Rights–stuff, but I am a lawyer, and a damn good one, so I can argue anything if the money is right!

Katie returned to take our orders. You folks ready to order? She asked walking in on the end of the conversation.

George pointed to me to place my order first. I’ll take your –chicken salad plate—.

And you sir, she asked George.

I’ll take the beef stroganoff. George said without much concentration.

Thank you, your meals will be coming up shortly. She left to place the orders.

Am I understanding you to say the Firm doesn’t like doing Civil Rights Cases representing Colored People?

We do them, but only if they are not High Profile, you know this is still the South! And yes, I would just as soon pass on those cases.

Yes, I know… this is still the South! I felt a little uneasy masking my emotions. As I looked at this prejudiced bastard, I could feel heat rising in my face and hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable, after all I did need the job. I wanted to tell him to kiss my black ass. I was pissed at this prejudiced bastard, but yet I knew that this was truly a learning opportunity. It also made me admire my mom for being strong enough to follow her heart. I loved my grandparents in England who I only met once when they came to the States expressly to see their grandchildren. Somehow I don’t think they would approve of this passing thing.

What are your short and long time goals? Mr. Corbin asked and waited for my response.

I paused a few seconds as if to think before I spoke. This was for show only because I was very clear on my personal goals. I would like to get this job and use it as a platform to become an Attorney, maybe join your firm someday. That is my short and long term goal. I decided not to mention my thoughts about becoming an F.B.I. Agent.

I see… that is not out of the realm of possibility, one of our legal team members is getting up there. You should know that this job is not as easy as it might look, there are serious challenges involved. How do you get along with Colored People, and do you have a problem going into the Colored Community? Mr. Corbin asked me a second time about my feelings towards Colored People, and sat back in his chair taking a sip from his coffee while looking me straight in my eyes. The fact that he had made this statement twice reinforced to me he considered me as a typical White girl.

I don’t have any problems getting along with Black people, or any other race of people, and no I wouldn’t hesitate to go into that community. I purposefully used Black instead of Colored in my statement and wondered if he was conscientiously aware of what I did.

"I had a reason for asking that question, there are some White people I know, even some Lawyers who avoid the Colored business