No To Racism

  Telephone Conversation 

By: Wole Soyinka 

            The price seemed reasonable, location 

            Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived 

            Off premises. Nothing remained 

            But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned, 

         “I hate a wasted journey—I am African.” 

            Silence. Silenced transmission of 

            Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, 

            Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled 

            Cigarette-holder piped. Caught I was, foully. 

         “HOW DARK?” . . . I had not misheard . . . “ARE YOU LIGHT 

            OR VERY DARK?” Button B. Button A. Stench 

            Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak. 

            Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered 

            Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed 

         By ill-mannered silence, surrender 

            Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification. 

            Considerate she was, varying the emphasis— 

            “ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came. 

            “You mean—like plain or milk chocolate?” 

             Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light 

            Impersonality. Rapidly, wavelength adjusted, 

            I chose. “West African sepia”—and as an afterthought, 

            “Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic 

            Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent 

         Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT’S THAT?” conceding, 

            “DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.” “Like brunette.” 

            “THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?” “Not altogether. 

            Facially, I am brunette, but madam, you should see 

            The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet 

         Are a peroxide blonde. Friction, caused— 

            Foolishly, madam—by sitting down, has turned 

            My bottom raven black—One moment madam!”—sensing 

            Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap 

            About my ears—“Madam,” I pleaded, “wouldn’t you rather 

See for yourself?”

What is the problem that is visible in the text?

At first the man calls the landlady to rent an apartment and talk to her but the way he talk wasn't a good start /informally because he told her that he is black. And so the conversation flow didn’t go well. And continue to worsen as the landlady continues to discriminate him does making him ashamed of his color. It’s because at that time people weren’t treated same we’re they judge people by their color. So the landlady didn’t want to lose her reputation and so he didn’t let the guy rent a room.

Witness Racism

I have this friend and she was born brown. She doesn't have a lot of friends but rather a lot of enemies even though she’s not doing anything, she was always tease and made fun of, but she never really hurt them, she was always left behind and she’s sometimes called “negro/negra”. She might be brown but she has a good heart, and so she just ignores those who bullied her.

Advice

Don’t mind them and don’t believe in what they say, if they told you you’re ugly because your black doesn't mean you really are, why if they told you you’ll turned white if you jump of a building, would you jump. See people like them don’t have the right to judge they’re not gods. Be confident and be who you are because color doesn't really matter.

My Own Quotation

“Don’t judge a person by their color”

It means that we shouldn't judge a person by their color, because we're all the same. we are all people we also have feelings so we should be sensitive to each other. and treat everyone fairly. 

Picture Source:

http://www.123rf.com/photo_13380094_girl-being-bullied.html

http://www.michellehenry.fr/june11P2.htm