HOUSE NIGGA

Charles Stein hated everything that looked like him. He gazed in the mirror and hated his black face, the unruly kink in his hair, and chocolate hue in his skin. He hated hip hop music. Rappers with expensive chains hanging from their necks made him physically ill. They were an embarrassment to everything he stood for. He hated half naked sistas in clubs with thick behinds, extensions and hoop earrings. They looked like civilization crumbling around him. He hated drug dealers, projects and frustrated women without mates. When a black man walked the streets he never acknowledged him. When a sista smiled at him he grinned nervously and kept it moving. He only knew the stereotype. He only saw the lie. Charles Stein was sick.

Charles Stein loved everything white. He loved blond hair, blue eyes, and behinds he could cup in his hand. He loved weekend getaways in the Hamptons, turtle neck sweaters and bagels with cream cheese. He loved country music, golf, and reading the Wallstreet Journal over coffee. When white women smiled butterflies danced in his belly and he felt all warm inside. When white men gave compliments he felt accepted and part of the club. Charles Stein was obsessed with being as close to white as possible, and often prayed for their complexion. He always said that if he died he wanted to come back as a white man ……….but that was all about to change.

The author is quoted as saying, “It is very important that you love yourself regardless of where you came from. This book is about learning to love who you are. There is only one word to describe this book………DAMN!!!”