The size of the figure automatically clued her into the fact it was none other than her Father. F…Father? she sputtered, the hair on her arms standi...g straight up with her sense of fear and panic. He Father just stood in the middle of the room, motionless and completely silent. Father, why are you in my room?, she tried to hide the shakiness in her voice. Finally she decided to turn on her lamp. She gasped in horror at what she saw, her Fathers face and clothes were covered in blood, and a. As does the white man. They live together. They work together. That’s how they consolidate power. While the African-American woman rages against the African-American man, and the frightened African-American man seeks happiness with women of other races, mainly white women, it’s the white folks who win. I don’t blame the African-American man for seeking happiness wherever he might find it. He has many strikes against him. He grew up with a domineering mother in a fatherless home, listening to. More

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