Personal Narrative: A Journey Through The Eyes Of African Americans

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As of now I must have my parents turning in their graves with what I am doing now. I stood in a boxing ring in a room full of men that looked at me like I was their prey, the person they would feast on. Hungry looks cover the faces of the paunchy men. I was hired to dance for the men in an outfit that left nothing to the imagination; I was practically naked. Money was money and I really need the cash they are offering. But the fact that a good amount of cash would be coming my way, I was fearful of what would happen after I was done dancing. Black boys stood in front of the ring. Some with uncomfortable faces, others with the same expressions as the white men in the room. Soon enough, someone clicked play on a stereo and I began to dance.
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