Dont Be Afraid
- 3 years ago
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Greetings, folks. This right here is the story of a young man who’s led a very interesting and remarkable life and learned something valuable at the end of his tribulations. Who is the hero of this tale? A young black man named James Francois Guillaume who enrolled at Byron College in the city of Milton, Massachusetts, in the summer of 2004. The tale of a man of character who found himself caught in two worlds and discovered that the answer to his problems was to be true to himself.
Upon receiving his acceptance letter on that glorious day in May 2004, James was quite thrilled at the opportunity which he has been given. Byron College is a small private school with eight thousand students. It’s unlike any place he’s ever visited. Byron College is considered one of the top schools in New England. James gets to go there on a student-athlete scholarship for soccer. It’s the chance of a lifetime. Little does he know that the school is not exactly the idyllic place he thought it was.
The first thing he noticed was the dearth of black men and black women on campus. Last year, James attended Brockton High School and he didn’t feel like a minority there. The school was teeming with African-American, Haitian, Cape Verdean, Hispanic and Asian students. Not Byron College, which had a student body that was eighty percent white. Oh, well. James took all that in stride. The last thing he needed was to get a complex over issues he knew he couldn’t change. So he settled into the men’s dormitories and focused on studying business books ( that’s his major) and playing soccer.
The first time he showed up for practice and a physical at the Byron College Field House, he realized that the men’s soccer team was full of black and Hispanic players. A fact which thrilled him, though he kept it to himself. In his experience, most soccer players on high school and college teams in America were either black or Hispanic. White guys didn’t much care for soccer. The majority of them preferred more popular sports such as football, basketball, wrestling, swimming, ice hockey and lacrosse.
While extremely rigorous in academic matters, Byron College was a student-athlete’s paradise. The athletic department sponsored men’s varsity baseball, basketball, cross country, soccer, swimming, ice hockey, wrestling, fencing, water polo, lacrosse, golf, tennis, rugby, rifle, pistol, cycling, volleyball, football and track & field along with women’s varsity softball, equestrian, gymnastics, rifle, cycling, field hockey, basketball, cross country, soccer, swimming, ice hockey, wrestling, fencing, water polo, lacrosse, golf, tennis, volleyball, rugby and track & field. The men’s and women’s sports teams, known as the Flying Rams and Lady Rams, respectively, competed in the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s Division Two.
James Guillaume growing fascination with his new school was just beginning to unfold. He had simply never been exposed to such a world before. Byron College was nearly two hundred years old and had produced countless inventors, congressmen, senators, businessmen, authors and activists. Distinguished men and women whom history and society remembered for their contributions and the remarkable lives they led. Byron College was an elite institution. It was quite possibly the top liberal arts school in the region. They welcomed him to their ranks and he strove to prove himself worthy. That was the work ethic his parents instilled in him. He busied himself studying and playing soccer. The men’s soccer team was quite efficient. They rolled over their longtime rivals, the men’s soccer team of Stonehill College in the town of Easton, Massachusetts. For James, life was good. His scholarship covered room and board, along with tuition and books. As long as he played well and maintained his GPA, he ought to be all set. He knew that his golden opportunity could be taken away at the drop of a hat.
Even though he was fast becoming the star player of the popular soccer team of an elite private school, he was still a poor young black man from Brockton. Some of the rich white guys and rich white girls at Byron College constantly reminded him of that. James didn’t pay them any mind. He ignored them completely, focusing on his schoolwork and his game. His only friends were the young black and Hispanic guys from the men’s soccer team. Most of them were poor dudes from small towns. They didn’t walk around with a sense of entitlement like the rich white brats. James formed a sort of brotherhood with them. They were his friends, and they stuck together.
Something which irked James is the fact that there were lots of rich black brats at Byron College and they were just as stuck-up as their white counterparts. Prejudice wasn’t a racial thing. More than once, James was made to feel unwelcome by a young black man or young black woman from one of his classes who thought he was just a dumb jock. James had to laugh at that. He maintained a 3.89 GPA while his scholarship only required him to get 2.5 and they had the guts to call him dumb? He was in honors classes and took a full load every semester. He didn’t know what their problem was and to be honest, he didn’t give a damn.
James Francois Guillaume, J.F. to his friends, is a strong black man. He’s intelligent, goal-oriented and very much a distinguished young gentleman in his own right. However, he is still a man and men have needs. The brotherhood he shared with his fellow soccer players was instrumental in lifting his spirits when he was down and preserving his sanity in the face of ridicule and mistreatment from the wealthy students of Byron College. However, his brothers couldn’t be his everything, as much as he loved them. He had other needs too.
He didn’t realize how powerful those needs were and what denying them was costing his mind and body until he met Lara Brown. The first time he laid eyes on her, he was smitten. The five-foot-ten, voluptuous and pretty-faced, decidedly gorgeous young woman with the caramel-like skin and curly black hair simply took his breath away. Lara Brown was a beauty in a league of her own. She was captain of the women’s volleyball team and also the president of the only black sorority on campus. She was the daughter of wealthy and influential parents. All the black male students on campus wanted her and James was no exception.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. He found that out the first time he approached her. They simply came from different worlds. Black men and black women are constantly on the lookout for prejudice. Sometimes, they forget that their own people can be their deadliest enemies. Nothing hates a black person like another black person could. When James approached Lara and asked her out, she called him the N word and told him to get out of her sight. She didn’t date his kind. Stunned, he stood, mouth open and silent as she and her clique of wealthy lady friends walked away. He returned to his dorm, feeling angry and humiliated. When he told his teammates about this, they told him what they already knew. The sons and daughters of wealthy black families were the most prejudiced of all students at Byron College. They treated less fortunate black students like they were less than human. James nodded as his teammates told him of their experiences. He learned his lesson. For the rest of his time at Byron College, he never approached an African-American female again.
In 2007, ahead of his class, he earned his bachelors degree in business from Byron College. He also led his team to the NCAA Division Two men’s soccer championships this year. The Major League Soccer scouts came calling, and a team from Los Angeles signed up for three million dollars. James Guillaume was on his way to becoming a very wealthy and powerful man. To this day, he still doesn’t date black women. Most college-educated black men don’t either. I wonder why.
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He glanced up from his computer when he heard the commotion just outside his open door; his eyes shifted to the clock and noted the time. “Fifteen minutes late,” he mumbled to himself. He watched her sauntering in, reciting good morning greetings to her fellow coworkers, their faux smiles and un-cordial greetings in return, falling on deaf ears and blind eyes. She poked her head into his office, a warm smile plastered on her face. “Good morning Mr. Barns,” her voice a melodious chorus of pure...
FetishHello everyone, this is Varun, age 24 athletic body 5’11”. This is my first story in ISS. I work in an MNC in Bangalore. I met Menaka (age 26, 5’6″, Fig: 32, 28, 32) in this company. Menaka was a senior in my company and she was supposed to my initial trainer. This story took place 2 years Everything was normal during the first week of my training. She had a variety of dressing sense. The first day we wore jeans and tee and the next day she wore salwar and the third day she wore one-piece...
Grass looks very mundane in daylight. You can’t guess its magic when your eye just barely notices it there, being all green and framing the day lilies and concrete driveway. At night, though, it has a blue glow to it and you just know it holds secrets. Lying in it at night, feeling the green and the moist and the cool, it’s freeing. Like you are the only thing that matters. That those parts of your life, that English final, what your mother said before you went out, your crappy new hair cut,...
FOREWORD FOREWORD This story is copyrighted. Please do not repost this without my express consent, or use it for your profit. The characters portrayed herein are not based on any real people - any likeness to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. While this story is not intended to offend, it does contain material that you may consider offensive. If you find non-consensual sex, humiliation and blackmail (just a few of the themes in this story) unpalatable, then please, for...
"I suppose you know what you're getting yourself into, Amanda" said Jeremy. "And you'll have to tell me what to do. I'm a bit new to this." "You are totally new to this! But it is in at the deep end for you! Just give me some water to swill my mouth with and the bucket to spit blood into at the end of each round. Clean up any cuts - and there will be lots! These gloves are lethal mon ami! You can't do much else. And wish me luck, because I fucking need it!" Jeremy sighed. This...
I WAS STARING into a mirror. No, a darkened window that showed my startled reflection. Only it wasn’t me. The girl that looked back at me was ... just not me. She was pretty. I couldn’t tell the color of her eyes but they looked startled like something had just slapped her. She was wearing a shawl and a dark dress that was buttoned up all the way under her chin. Oh my god! It happened. I’m in a different person. I’m so sorry, Kyle. What do I do now? “Who are you?” My host was panicking. How...