On school we have worked with a movie called “Mississippi Burning” and the discrimination and violent that was directed toward the colored people in this period. 

This is the task I chose when we were writhing at school: Imagine you are a teenager living in the South in the 1960s. Write a diary entry (or more) where you reflect on the situation.

June 21. 1962

Two more days now, and the holiday begins.

Tow more days now, and my life will become a living hell.

Earlier this morning, when I walked to school I heard someone screaming. Some boys, white boys, of my age were pushing my friend around and he landed in the dusty trench. “Hey, Blackie, that rock over there looks just like you face”, they said. I was so angry, I wanted to scream, but I did nothing. I just walked past them with my eyes on the ground. The boy they had called “Blackie” was one of my few friends. His name is Bobby. His skin is much darker than mine, and everyone else’s. That is why the white, older boys always are mean to him and not me. They appear at our school and beat him up, once or twice a week. It is nothing we can do. Their fathers are high ranked in town, and I do not dare to think of what could have happened if we did something to hurt or resist them.

Love and shame, Lilly

June 22. 1962

One more day now, and the holiday begins.

Hell came one day earlier than expected.

It hurts, but I am glad

I am glad, but I am also worried of what that will happen now.

The white boys came to our school in the lunch break, as i feared. “Blackie where are you, Blackie”, they shouted with a sing song voice. At that exact moment Bobby walked around the corner of our school building. In a few seconds they had surrounded him. They began pushing him around. "Blackie, the black one", they shouted. In that second I snapped. I could not take it any more. Bobby was always in pain, he had a black eye or a broken arm. I did something very brave then. I ran at them and kicked them as hard as I could. I just wanted to hurt them as much as they had hurt Bobby. Someone hit me in the face and I passed out, but now I am glad. I am glad because I dared to stand up and protest and not just lie down and get stepped on. On the 22 of June 1962 life became hell one day earlier than usual

Love and pride, Lilly