“They would agree more if they experienced it,” said Simple. “And if they got locked up a few times, them signs would come down! White folks do not put up with whatever they don’t like. Just let a white man get turned down when he goes in a restaurant hungry. He will turn the joint out. If I get turned down, all they do is turn me out. White folks has got a theoretical knowledge of prejudice. I want them to have a real one. That is why I say when these nice white folks from up North goes down to Florida in the winter, let them go Jim Crow. When they get there let them stay at one of them colored hotels where they don’t have no bell boys to wait on them hand and foot, also no valet service, and no nice room service for breakfast on a push wagon, and where the elevator is liable to be broke down, if they got one. Let them live colored for just one vacation. I bet they will not be so sweet-tempered then. They would not like it. They would be mad! It is not enough for white folks just to be nice and shake my hand and tell me I am equal. I know I am equal. What I want is to be treated equal. So maybe if the nice white folks really find out what it is like not to be treated equal—after they live Jim Crow themselves—I bet you, things will change! You know, white folks would not put up with Jim Crow—if they ever got Jim Crowed themselves. They don’t really know what Jim Crow is. But it is their duty to find out, and duty cannot be snooty.”

“Your flights of fancy are rather intriguing,” I said, “but you know none of what you are saying is going to happen. Good people are not that good. To tell the truth, if I were white, no matter how much I loved Negroes, I doubt that I would submit myself to Jim Crow living conditions just to prove my love.”

“Neither would I,” said Simple.

“Then you would not be very good, either.”

“No,” said Simple, “but I would be white.”

Bones, Bombs, Chicken Necks

Bones, Bombs, Chicken Necks

“FOR the first time since I been married,” said Simple, “Joyce has not spoke to me all day.”

“Did you speak to her?” I asked.

“I tried,” said Simple, “but she did not answer.”

“What happened? What’s the matter?” I asked.

“She’s interfered with my habits,” said Simple.

“What do you mean, interfered with your habits?”

“My pleasure, and my ways,” said Simple.

“Well, tell me,” I said, “if you are going to tell me.”