Racism
You know I thought playgrounds were where we were supposed to form our first and most lasting impression. Yet, we as kids don’t emphasize differences in race or skin color until adults point them out, perpetuating the unfortunate and unnecessary cycle of racism.I could not hide from his pain if he wanted to. I was nine years old. My family had just moved from a lager city on the east coast to a suburb on the west coast. Like most new comers, I found it difficult at first to make friends. Several other children lived on his block, but every time he tried to get close, they ran away. I think much about it, however, especially after I met another nine-year old boy named Wesley who lived four houses down and across the street. Wesley and me shared a common interest: baseball. One Saturday afternoon, Wesley and me went to the park. We had just watched a baseball game . . .
” A shouting match ensued and I called the boy a dirty name. I was sort of getting upset, but deep down inside I felt sad about it. ” I walked home alone that day, and promised my self that I never play catch with another white boy. Some black folks and some white folks just shouldn’t mix. “I was scared because my house was several blocks away. “I just went to the park to play ball with my friend,” I recalled. “That hurt more than all the punches. I didn’t even know why we were fighting. ” A crowd gathered and I begin to hear several other kids shout, “Kill the nigger! Kill the nigger!” I started to cry, and the other boys laughed at me. “I later asked my mom ‘Why do white people hate black people?’ She just cried and said she didn’t know. “I probably shouldn’t have called him a name, but he was calling me names. I pitched the ball to Wesley who was crouched down as a catcher. ” We boys laughed and took turns pitching and catching, hitting, and running.
Common topics in this essay:
World Series, , white people, play catch, kill nigger, boys laughed, | 
Acceptance Essays
