The scrape on the ice could be heard for miles. The dark, oily looking hand reached through the blinding whiteness to me when I fell on the ice. I was curious; so I grabbed the young black girl’s hand with my own cold, slick one. The two of us didn’t have much to say. We were just young strangers who wanted to skate together on this chilly day. Two sets of parents looked on- one set happy that the little black girl was being so helpful to someone in need, the other set grateful I was in good hands.

As we continued to skate, I became aware of the hand I was holding. It was so different from mine. True it had all the same features; a palm, fingers, thumbs; but it was very dark and mine was very light. I began to wonder how it could be that two things so opposite from each other could be so alike. I also wondered if my hand would rub off on her and hers on mine. Her skin was so shiny, it looked like pancake make-up that would come off with soap and water. I did not ask the girl if it was true, I only studied my hand when we finally separated to leave. I was astonished to find that I did not have an imprint of her hand on mine. I looked at my hand in fascination all day.
 
 

My parents always taught me and my brothers and sisters to be there for each other in times of need. I knew the little white girl on the ice was struggling just like I knew my baby brother wanted a bottle when he cried at five p.m. I could see her fall and had passed her earlier when she was clinging to the wall. She looked happy though. Excited. I wanted someone fun to skate with. We could help each other, like Mom and Dad always said.

I skated over to her. I was pretty good at this by now. We had gone to the rink several times that winter. I put a hand out to her and she looked up at me with curiosity. I told her I would help her up. Then we skated around the rink hand in hand until it was time to go. She was an okay skater, for a white girl. She didn’t come here much. My parents told me it was very nice of me to help the little girl. I was glad I did.

The little white girl was looking at her hand when we stopped skating together. Maybe she thought she would turn black or something. I think it would be fun if she did. Then she could come to school with me and no one would care that she was really white. Or would they?

Return to SBS 301 F 2000 PME home page