Emmett Till died a month before I was born. Since I discovered his story I’ve written about him several times on my birthday. If you want to see what hate looks like look here (You’ll need to scroll down). His mother, Mamie, should be remembered alongside Rosa Parks.
Strangely enough at the moment, Olivier is studying those people who wear white gowns (I won’t put the name, but I think you know who) and guns in the US in English. We had to look up the white gowned people at home because the lycee computer blocks those kind of sites. So I told him about Emmett and showed him the picture, then I found him the Lyrics of Strange Fruit and he listened to John Martyn singing them. We both felt pretty sick after that.
A day later, he gave a talk on the subject, he thinks it went pretty well, he made an effort to speak slowly to the rest of the class. His talk lasted longer than intended and he didn’t use all of the material he’d prepared (I’m familiar with that one).