Not so long ago, in a kingdom not so far away, there was a little girl. She lived in a castle that overlooked the most beautiful valley in all the land. She longed for nights that she could stare out into the valley and be mesmerized by the sunset. She dreamed of the deepest shades of orange fading into the sweetest pink she ever saw. She imagined dancing in the rays and letting the drops of light fall onto her tongue like sugary flakes of snow.
But dream was all she could ever do. The king refused to grant her permission to enter the Great Hall. From there she would have had the most spectacular view. It’s walls spilled onto a portico overlooking the valley of sunsets.
She tried to peak a few times but was quickly reprimanded for her breach of etiquette. She was reminded that the King forbade her from entering because this room had been designated as the throne of her older sister, the future queen.
Her sister sat on the same lavish throne their mother and grandmother sat. Her sister was clothed like a queen. She was fed like a queen. And was trained to be the queen.
Our little girl was given scraps of fabric to fashion her own garments. She was fed the same left over scraps the dogs ate . And rather than the finest tutors, she was provided barely enough education to read.
One day an ambassador came to the palace. He noticed the little girl. He noticed the downward slant of her gaze. He recoiled at the harsh tones spoken to such a young child. His indignation grew.
“Why was the child of a king treated with such disgrace?” He demanded!
Because. She is black.