At five, the hip-hop poet was racially abused at school. Could his mother ever really understand?One day in 1988, at the age of five, I returned home from school upset. My mum tried to work out why but I was reluctant to tell her. After some coaxing, I told her that a boy in the playground had called me a particularly nasty name. As I was about to spill the beans, a strange thing occurred. I said, `Mum, the white boy... ` and trailed off before I could complete the sentence. A profound realisation hit me. With a hint of terror and accusation, I said, `But you´re white, aren´t you, Mummy?`Before this, my mum was just my mum, a flawless superhero, as any loving parent is in a five-year-old´s eyes. I sensed that something about that image was changing in the moment, something we could never take back. I wanted to un-ask the question. My mother´s expression was halfway between shock and resignation: she´d known this day would come, but the directness of the question still took her aback. Continue reading...
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