MEET WEST MONROE HIGH SCHOOL's first BLACK REBEL

My father was a mechanic with only a third-grade education but was referred to as, " Mr. Joe Snowden" or simply, "Mr. Snowden." He allowed me to have free reign and set no boundaries on what he'd tell me about the world. I was a bonafide "daddy's girl" because my father lacked a lot in the parenting department, but I got a lot of perspectives about whites from his examples.

Once, he and I were in the car together driving by Halsey's Cemetery in the white part of town. My father looked at me and said, "Rhett, there lies all the good white people in West Monroe."

"Daddy, what are you talking about? All those people are dead," I replied.

My father snickered. "Good, you get my point. One thing I can say about you Rhett is you are one smart little cookie. Nothing gets by you. Nobody gonna give my baby-girl no wooden nickels." 

I really didn't understand, but he did plant a good seed - good white people were dead white people. 

I attended a segregated church, was enrolled in a segregated school, and lived in a segregated community. I had little interaction with whites. The only time I saw a white person were the times I walked to the Jewish stores - Mr. Block's or Mr. Hopper's stores. These two stores were in the black parts of town, and we shopped there for day-to-day necessities. I didn't think much of it, but my father had a lot to say in the matter. 

Daddy didn't allow Ma Dear to run a tab at either store. He had no real trust in white people. Mr. Block and Mr. Hopper were supposed to keep exact records, but Dad believed that both store owners padded their books. Unlike many people in our community, we didn't have credit at the store. My dad was strange like that. 

"I now had the desire to attend West Monroe's junior-senior prom, along with everything else I was denied. I felt it was my right. It was before this chaotic period that Ma Dear had granted me the privilege to attend. Yes, as a junior, I had purchased tickets. I had a date, and I was set to go. What could go wrong? Why would I want to go to a formal dance with a bunch of white people who reminded me every day that I did not belong? Because it was my right. Because I did belong. Because I needed to attend so that the attendance of black students would be expected and not tolerated. I had been denied every extra-curricular activity for two years and I'd had enough. I gave myself permission to attend. It would be up to the white students to decide if they wanted to ruin it with their behavior or not. I was going." - except from Forged: When Sugar Taste Like Salt.