• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 09
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A girl, twelve years old, stood in the doorway of a church, St John the Baptist.
Illuminated by stained glass windows, separated by led lattice.

She was not taught about racism, she did not have that privilege.
She learnt it the hard way, growing up in a quintessential middle England village.

Standing as tall as the mic prop, in front of a crowd that were silent like tombstones.
She opened her mouth and the unfortunate truth poured out into the microphones.

Racially abused in primary school, the first occasion but not the last.
Time progressed but society did not, she was let down again and again, constantly harassed.

Yet here she is, on her podium - not one that she was given, one she had to take.
Still only a child, a child we failed and left her with no choice to make...

But to lead this crowd in a chorus of sorrow.
Tear soaked cheeks that will remain so, far beyond tomorrow.

Textbooks must be rewritten and systems reshaped.
So that this little girl does not have to beg for her freedoms in-front of the church drapes.

A fight for rights that has raged for almost half a millennium,
will hopefully now come to an end, as no child should have to mend the equilibrium.