The White Slave Girl
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"Anyone could pick Gracie out of the crowd, and as much as she thought of herself as another slave, anyone would be able to recognize the differences between her and the others. Her hands were as rough and calloused as the best of the workers on the plantation, but she used those hands to brush a mass of thick, blonde curls out of her face. Her body wasn't big-boned like most of the slave women, but small and petite, yet strong and muscled. And other than a splattering of freckles across her nose from being in the sun, her skin was a smooth, flawless ivory."
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Growing up in Antebellum South, sixteen year-old Elizabeth Grace Harris, or Gracie, knew nothing but the life of a slave. Picking cotton and laboring for the Rodgers family and their large plantation home was as natural to her as it was to any of the other slaves, regardless of how she looked compared to them. But as time passes and Gracie learns more and more about how and why she became the person that she is, she learns that there are more blurred lines and grey areas than she could ever imagine.
Because, you see, Elizabeth Grace Harris was The White Slave Girl.
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