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{"only 300?": a student's take on harriet tubman} matthew e. henry he was incredulous in that pure white bread, middle class way i make excuses for. in his estimation she hadn’t done enough. the math was in his favor: she left many behind. thousands gone. in the back of the classroom i sit quietly aware of the bottled tan and bleached dreads upon a boy whose car stereo descends in contrast with his driver’s side window when adjacent skin of a darker hue. pine for poor Harriet, her handgun her pointless heroism, her foot ferry failure, her star treks lost to these without syndication on MTV or UPN. Yes, “only 300.” i hear you my young, white brother. i hear you. now shut the fuck up, and sit down. |
