Steve Majors
Clockwise from left: My brother Jim, sister Denise, brother Mike, mother Claudine, brother Rick and me.

“Oreos” are what my family called Black folks who betrayed their skin color. They were the ones who might look black on the outside but whose actions showed they were white on the inside. Growing up as a white-passing person I might have been accused of being the opposite. But…

I’ve often wondered what a dirt-poor, white handyman would see in a poorly educated, black domestic worker.

Certainly, they saw love. But undoubtedly, they also glimpsed the future.

Decades before Richard and Mildred Loving defied interracial marriage laws and social mores, my grandmother and her common-law husband did the same…

For years, the guiding force in my life tied my shoes, yanked a comb through my tangled hair, and then dragged me along by the hand wherever she went. My big sister Neecie had big dreams and wasn’t about to let me slow her down. Being the only girl in…

A Conversation about Race, Identity and the Ties that Bind Us

Clockwise from lower left: My brother Jim, sister Denise, brother Michael, Mother, brother Rick and me in a photo dated 1968

For years, I have written about my struggle to find my identity and my place in a world that often sees things in black and white. I live somewhere in the in-between, born to a different father than my…

Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

I walk a racial tightrope. It’s one I’ve struggled to balance on for my entire life. But over the past several weeks, I’ve felt myself teetering. I’m black and outraged that racism continues to kill black people like George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor while burdening the lives of…

Steve Majors

"High Yella” — Available now at your favorite book retailer

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