About Me

Dear Diary,

    This is me, my name is Florence Smith, I reside in Mississippi and I live with my dear mother and father on our small farm. I am thirteen years old. When I was only two years old my only sibling died of small pox, I don't remember much of him but from what I've heard from my parents, he was the greatest thing that ever happened to them.
     My family owns three slaves. Our slaves are a family from Northern Africa, the youngest, Tommy, is about my age. Me and Tommy often sneak around and to discuss our lives, his life is so much different then mine. Tommy can't read or write, he has never been to school before and he shows little intelligence for the world around him. Sometimes I try to teach him how I see the world from my perspective. One time I even tried to teach him how to read, but he could never get the hang of it. I don't blame him though, its not his fault he can't comprehend things the same way that I do.
       The one time we got caught sneaking around my father gave me a good whoopin' and told me to never talk to him again. Tommy's mom and dad told him to not talk to the "white girl" for I might get him in to trouble with my parents. Father refers to Tommy and his family in a rude and crued way. He orders them around and insults their hard work, I wish I could stand up for them but Im scared of what father might do. Although father shows ignorance to them, he is a good man. All of my life I have lived learning how Tommy and his family are uncivilized and unimportant, Ive never told anyone this but I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my friend is justified to being enslaved.
      Father works for a journalism company named the South Star and mother stays home to take care of me and the house. My life is plain and simple and similar to most of the other girls at my school, I have one friend named Mary-Jane. Mary-Jane and I have been acquainted for the longest time, she is one of the most beautiful and intelligent people I know. One time I decided to tell her about Tommy and I, yet she opposed so much that she refused to talk to me for a whole week, mother made me apologize because she didnt want tensions to rise between our families. I apologized even though I didnt really want to.

     I hope to write in this diary as often as I remember yet forgive me if I forget, I wouldn't be surprised if I did.


                     Love, Smith