When I was a young boy, I used to wonder why some white people did not like black people. I dated white girls as a teenager. One of the girls I dated father hated black people while living in a mixed Milwaukee neighborhood. He probably was not in the financial position to move, or he would have. My Grandma Gracie told me once, "I don't see what you see in them girls. They wrinkle up when they get old." I just smiled and answered, "Yes m'am." I just could not see any difference in the races other than physical. Becoming a man I was able to sort things out. I found out I loved observing people. I liked to figure out why individuals acted such way under different circumstances. For instance,… when white people get tired of talking about racism, don't want to see a movie about it, or just don't want to deal with it. It's because they find themselves looking at a extremely close relative in the media, or reminded of one. They cannot in their own mind figure out why this charming, gentle old aunt, who would not hurt a fly, is willing to push the lever on a trap door to hang a black person. Why that lovable uncle, who gives to all those charities, can't stand people of color. Then, there is the neighborhood uncle to every kid on the block, as long as that kid is not black, and so on, and so on, confuses his close family members. They cannot reason why their close and loved relatives are like that, so they don't want to deal with the subject at all. I took a detour with my creative side of life to earn a living and raise a family with my wife. A few years before leaving the "rat race", I discovered my true love, writing. I started by publishing an online newsletter with my opinionated articles leading off each issue. I graduated by writing my first book, Unchon-ni. It's a semi-biography about my military tour in Korea. I've always been fascinated by history, especially black history. So I wanted my next project to be historic in nature. That's where I got the idea to write about my Grandmother, who always seemed to be at odds with people. In my mind, these same people, including some relatives, never took the time to get to know her. It is difficult to explain to others when one realizes that being born black bring on extended circumstances. Sort of like, handle with care or you might get a shock. Maybe it's more like a sign posted on your being that states "Nitroglycerin - Handle with care." I can't remember, when as a child, I discovered there is a majority race of people who don't like me because I am a black. In fact, some of my own people teased me because I'm a dark skin black person. Maybe I am lucky I wasn't born a black girl with added issues such as a preference to play with white dolls rather than a black one, with the notion that my facial features, such as a wide nose, and nappy hair are ugly when compared to some other races. Or as a teenage black girl, wishing that I had hair that would not curl up tight after getting caught in a rain storm, or after taking a swim without a swim cap on. The truth; is it does not matter if you are male or female, the hurt is just as strong. Yeah, I would truly like to recall when I, as a child, first felt being born black might be a curse from God. Or is God testing my resolve? Either way, I know that one of the first questions I asked myself and God at the time was "Why me?" Or the big one, "God what have you got against black people?" I do believe that God loves all races and beings. In the end, I, like we all, came to a conclusion; you are just going to have to deal with it. Growing up, you discover these black people have a lot of God given gifts that other races don't have. Maybe, just maybe, being born black is a admirable thing. Being brought up in the city with all of its trappings of indoor plumbing, electricity, modern medicine, improved personal and public transportation and communication, we take those things for granted. Think about our forefathers who were f