Here for It Or, How to Save Your Soul in America; Essays - R. Eric Thomas Page 0,11

like to think of bubbles as transportation systems, the bubble as flotation device, as oxygen, as a sign of life. In Bubbleland, we were separated from forces that sought to harm us and given resources that could expand our worlds. This mobility is the best kind of intention to set for your child, I think. And not only that, it’s what every child should have. It’s what they deserve. And if the world were just, they could have it. And so, if you’re my parents, you do everything in your ability to make that world appear, even if it is partly an illusion, even if the effort is breaking you. You do it, because perhaps if your child can live in this more just world for long enough, it will become their reality.

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As is probably the case with nearly all independent private schools in the nation, Park is mostly white. (I have done no research on what other independent private schools are like, but I have a hunch based on literally everything I know about America.) I was one of three black students in my grade when I started, and by the time I graduated I believe there were eight of us. The majority of my classmates were Jewish, which provided an exciting secondary education for me. Much of the first couple of years I spent at Park were comprised of learning by doing, learning by reading, and learning by asking things like “What is Rosh Hashanah and why is no one in school today and does this mean we can watch a movie?”

The exposure to a different culture was invigorating for me. I felt like every day I stumbled into new terrain. I wasn’t a pioneer, of course. I knew that. That was part of the appeal of Judaism—I was not discovering it; it was being revealed to me. And just as I peppered people with queries about Judaism, my classmates were curious about blackness and Christianity. I guess we learned from each other. Sometimes it was awkward—Baltimore has a long history of difficult relations between black and Jewish communities, although that rarely carried over into school—but it was seldom ugly. I think it’s a testament to the school’s ability to create a safe environment that microaggressions didn’t turn into macroaggressions and that students treated one another with respect. Another bubble.

Which is why it was such a surprise when one of my classmates called me a nigger in fifth grade.

* * *

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It happened, as I suppose these things can, for no reason. The class was briefly unattended, working on a project and talking. One girl was needling a boy. Let’s call the girl Dora and let’s call the boy Prentice because those names are quaint and if we’re going to use pseudonyms, they ought to bring joy. So Dora says, “You know, another word for ‘Prentice’ is ‘nerd,’ ” or something equally toothless. I don’t really remember the quote so much as I remember thinking, This utopia is terrible at shade. Somehow, Prentice thought it might be fun to get me involved in this, which is odd because although we were friends I was definitely not volleying back and forth with the bush-league put-downs. He replied to Dora, “Another word for ‘Eric’ is ‘nigger.’ ”

Everyone fell silent and then I burst into tears. Someone ran out of the room and got a teacher. My thoughts and prayers are with a teacher at a mostly white, very liberal bastion of progressive education who has a ten-year-old run up screaming, “Someone called Eric a nigger.” It sounds like a lot of paperwork at the very least.

Prentice and I got whisked off to the principal’s office and asked to explain. I, understandably, had no explanation. Prentice said he hadn’t meant it. Our parents were called. Betty Grey’s suit came out of the closet.

* * *

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My first “nigger” was what I think of as a casual “nigger.” (Casual Nigger was the first title of this book but literally everyone started screaming the minute I said it, so I came up with some alternatives.) Even as a child, I understood that Prentice was pushing a button he knew was a button but was unsure of what the result would be. It was an experiment, I think. Testing out language. The way Prentice said it was not at all loaded, unlike the other times in my life I would be called that word.

The point is, this wasn’t a battle between him and