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I ended up in the Richmond, Virginia bus station at midnight, waiting for a friend to pick me up. I was nineteen, practically broke, and completely naive - but I did recognize that I was in an unsafe place.
First I sat down next to an elderly black man, and we talked for a while, but that fell apart when he realized, belatedly, that I was white (I had a deep tan that year). He was obviously terrified to be caught talking with a white woman so I had to move.
I sat down next to a young black woman and her child. Her name was Angela. We talked for hours - about her life and my life. She was waiting for a connecting bus to her home in another part of the state. I had lived in Mexico and seen poverty, but this was the first time I had talked as a young adult with somebody who was struggling against incredible odds. The main thing that struck me was Angela's serenity and faith in the face of hard work and misfortune.
When my boyfriend arrived to pick me up I was shocked by how pale he looked. Everybody I had seen for hours was African-American. I was just a traveler passing through, but for a few hours I saw things from a completely different perspective, and it has stayed with me ever since.
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