Hi Bobi, from the context, I guess my White mother raised me about 15 years ahead of you. When I was 17 and clueless, without direction in life, she gave me George Jackson’s Soledad Brother (he was Marshall of the prison unit of the BBP). It remains one of the best books I’ve ever read in my life. With my mother’s blessings I joined the Panthers one year later. Oh and my mother came to school with me, also. She had to fight for me. I was the only Black kid in the school. Oh, also, my blood mother (who is Italian) explained to me when I was five years old that I was Black. That was fully ten years before “Black is Beautiful.” My mother was a revolutionary and an internationalist. The good White people in the neighborhood hated my mother as a race traitor.