racism narrative

As a child, I did not get to have many experiences dealing with racist situations, because I lived in such a “white” town that I just did not get to see that many types of different people. I grew up in the relatively small town of Ivyland in the suburbs of Philadelphia. The area is very rural with lots of farmlands, large houses, and overall is a very conservative place. I lived in the same house for all 18 years of my life, and my family never took my and my siblings many places. My father is very protective, and I would always have to tell him every place I was at every moment of time so that he did not have to worry where I was or who I was with. As I was growing up, I did not know much about the people that were not in my area. I heard that the city was different, but we really never went there and my parents only told me that it was a dangerous and scary place. This applied especially since all the kids that went to my school were white, and we were just used to it. We saw differences in each other and there were different groups of kids, but over all, we were all essentially the same. That’s why when there was a new kid in our school, no one knew how to react at first because of how much different he was.
From what I remember, his name was Jack. He had long brown hair, wore hand-me-down clothes, and had very unique facial features. He came from a Native American family. But of course, the children did not just view him in this manner as a different race, we just saw him as different. As soon as we saw him, he was judged based on his appearance. We had never seen someone with such odd features, and since he was different, he was an outcast compared to the rest of the kids. He did not talk to anyone, and he most definitely did not have any friends. His whole family looked the way he did, and when anyone would see him, they would always talk about how strange they were compared to us. Jack would be on the playground, and we would all see