Story cover for Short Story: Colored Water (Finished Editing) by ShimmeringLight
Short Story: Colored Water (Finished Editing)
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    Parts 1
  • WpHistory
    Time 10m
  • WpView
    Reads 4,702
  • WpVote
    Votes 22
  • WpPart
    Parts 1
  • WpHistory
    Time 10m
Complete, First published Jun 09, 2011
Slavery has played an important role in American history. It has been the cause of major battles and wars. It has been responsible for the split between states and territories. Slavery in America was a system in which colored people were discriminated and persecuted due to the color of their skin. Because of this, they were thought to be a piece of property by many whites and were forced to work. African Americans had many separate facilities for they were segregated from the Whites. One of which were different drinking fountains. This short story is about a young Caucasian girl who reads the sign hung above fountains to help distinguish which one is for Whites and which one is for African Americans. Believing that from the fountain labeled 'Colored Water,' she would be able to get a taste of water which comes out sparkly and rainbow. Read how a mother, embarrassed by her girl's stubbornness to want to drink out of the water labeled only for African Americans, shows her perspective over slavery to her daughter.
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I wonder why people feel like they have the right to ask me about my personal life. I don't know how many times a day I am asked, "Who are you? Where are you from? What are you mixed with?" My replies to those people are, "Why do you care where I'm from? It is your business to know what I am mixed with? How dare you overstep your boundaries and violate my space? Society judges my skin color, my hair, and my exotic features. It does not accept me for being who I am. I often hear, "You are too light to be black" or "You are too dark to be white." They size me up with their eyes of hate as if I asked for their opinion. I don't owe you an explanation. I am not on trial because of my background. I didn't choose my race. I did not ask to be here -- but I am here. I am not ashamed of who I am. You asked me, "Who am I?" The real question is, why are you obsessed with my race? Why is it any of your concern? I am Stella. I am 16 years old, and I am proud of who I am! I am biracial, and I am a human being just like you.