What Happens When You Are Not “White” Like Your White Father
<p>I was in the dressing room with the rest of my class. We had just finished rehearsal for a play. I was in eighth grade and this was drama class.</p>
<p>That day I was getting my stuff ready in the dressing room. I knew my dad was picking me up that day. I was hoping that he had our dog with him too. Seeing my dog never failed to make me smile.</p>
<p>Suddenly, I heard my drama teacher’s voice from the other side of the room. It was directed at another student.</p>
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