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twenty-two june ninety eight eleven a m
i am not interested in extremists
JASPER, TEXAS - I had forgotten how hot Texas gets in the summer. Even in the early mornings, before the mist burns off, it's hot, and it's not early anymore.
I am not interested in the extremists, the bigots, and the loudmouths. I am not interested in the Klan, or the Black Panthers, who have recently arrived in town for a photo opportunity. I'm interested in the regular people.
The white people in this town - the ones who don't hate black people - don't understand why the press is so hostile. Look, they say, we're not oppressing anybody. This town has a black mayor. Everyone agrees that the sheriff, who's white, did a fair, unbiased, and commendable job. These three jerks are getting what they deserve. It wasn't us.
But the black people in town know that the habits take longer to go away than the hatred. The black kids and the white kids still don't play together. The blacks still don't get certain kinds of jobs.
And James Byrd has been buried in the back part of the local cemetery; the black part. Out of view.
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