“The president has been shot!

”
Mimsy hid behind her master’s chair and listened in horror as her master read the
morning newspaper. She didn’t know who Lincoln was really, but she knew he was good for her
people. Her mama and papa were always discussing him when their master wasn’t home.
“Nala, where are you, girl?” Master hollard.
Mimsy snuck out and answered, “Right here, master.”
He pointed to his lap and she climbed up onto his lap. She was very lucky to have a
master that wasn’t cruel like some of the other ones. Ever since she was born he had adored
her. Usually she would have been sold to someone else, but Mimsy slipped into his heart.
“Darlin, are you alright? Do you understand what has happened?” Master asked.
“Yes, sir. The president is dead, but what does that mean for us?” Mimsy questioned.
“You are fine, my Nala. You, your mama, and papa are just going to stay with me forever
now.” Master stated, brushing down her soft curly hair.
“Should I tell mama and papa?” Mimsy asked
“No, sweetheart, I’ll tell them. Run along and play now.” Master said.
Mimsy hopped off his lap and ran outside to play in the field. She ran all the way out to a
big tree that she loved to climb. At the top she sat down and could see the whole farm. The
trees stretched on for years and towards the end of summer the corn grew so high. A warm
breeze brushed against her face as she turned to look for her parents who were in the field. She
spotted them picking in a row near the house. Master was walking to them with the newspaper
in his hand. He showed them the front cover and must have told them the president was dead
because Mimsy’s mother collapsed onto her knees. Her papa put his hands on her shoulders,
but their master shoved him back and picked up her mama. Mimsy thought that was very nice of
him to help her mama up. Mimsy climbed down the tree and ran to make sure her mama was
alright. When she got there she saw that she was crying holding her red cheek.
“It’s gonna be alright, mama,” Mimsy stated as she hugged her mama.
“Oh child, don’t you understand, we are trapped now!” Her mama shouted through tears.
“Nala, our lives are going to get very bad. If you see a chance to get out, run baby,” Said
her father bending down at her level.
“But we get to stay with Master now,” Mimsy said confused.
“You will understand soon that he is not as nice as he may seem to you. Now run along,”
Her father commanded pointing to the open field.
As Mimsy walked away she thought about what her papa said and it confused her. Their
Master had always treated her so well. He gave her clothes, food, and would talk to her all night
long. At three how could she know what he was and what it would evolve into. She had her
parents and her innocence. As she grew that changed, however and things started to look odd
to her. Her papa’s words were stuck in her mind though, “If you see a chance to get out, run,
baby,”

“Happy birthday, Nala,” Mimsy's mother said tearing up.

“Oh, mom, I’m just ten years old. It’s not as if I’m going anywhere,” Mimsy laughs
hugging her mom feeling tears drop onto her head.
“Where is my Nala?!” Master shouted.
 “Here, Master!” Mimsy calls out.
She walks out of the tent to see their master sitting down on a stump with his arms out
wide.
“Come here, girl!” Master called.
Mimsy jumped into his arms and sat on his lap just like she used too when she was little.
She was getting far too big to sit on his lap now. He grabbed her arms and held them up.
“Let me see your muscles,” He commanded.
Mimsy flexed her arms to show off her little strong arms. Their master nodded and felt
her body up and down. Mimsy’s mother was standing closely and she watched her little girl get
felt by the large white man. He looked up to see her staring at him and snarled at her. Mimsy
was none the wiser. She just played with his thick bushy beard.
“Alright, Nala, girl, celebrate today and then we will get started tomorrow,” Master said,
placing Mimsy down and getting up.
“Get started on what, mama?” Mimsy asked tugging on her mama’s sleeve.
“Come inside, Nala. Your father and I need to talk to you,” Her mama stated.
Her mama brought her inside and sat her down on the cot. She watched as her mother
whispered to her father wondering what was going on. Everything seemed so strange to her. It
seemed like everyone was going crazy. She was just turning ten not going to war.
“Nala, do you know what it means now that you’re ten?” Papa asked.
“No, papa,” Mimsy responded.
“Darlin, it means that you’re going to have to start working now,” Mama stated slouching
down, starting to cry.
“But you and papa work, so what is the problem?” Mimsy asked.
“Nala, you’ve been raised to work not to be treated well. All these years when the master
has been feeding and coddling you, he’s just been preparing you to be strong enough not to die
immediately when you start working,” Papa stated.
“No! No, I don’t believe you! No, it can’t be!” Mimsy shouted as she ran off into the field.
“Nala, come back!” Papa shouted after her.
“Let her go, Niles. She will see that we were right tomorrow,” Mama choked out putting
her hand on his shoulder.
Mimsy ran through the growing corn and cotton fields and climbed up her big tree. She
sat down and looked out the side at the big house. Her master wasn’t mean. He would never be
mean especially not to her. Mama and papa were just lying. Mimsy turned her head facing the
porch and saw the paperboy delivering paper. She had completely forgotten what day it was
and climbed down the tree. The paperboy had just flung the paper as she came barreling up to
him to grab the paper. He jumped back a bit startled by her, but quickly climbed on his bike and
peddled away. She opened the door to the house finding her master reading a book in his big
arm chair. Mimsy climbed up into his lap and gave him the paper.
“It’s newspaper day,” She stated.
“That it is and is someone ready to hear it?” Master asked.
“Yes!” Mimsy shouted excitedly. She loved listening to the master read the paper.
 “Let’s see now. Hm, the economy is doing good right now. The President is fighting
against the women’s vote riot. There’s chaos in New York about it and women are being
arrested for voting. Oh, here’s an interesting one! The Great Boston Fire. A lanter,”
“Wait, go back!” Mimsy interrupted.
“To what?” Master asked.
“The women! Why are they being arrested?” Mimsy asked.
“Darlin, these women are bad news. They are trying to vote and forsake their actual job.
What’s next, they’ll wanna work with us? No, women belong at home having babies and making
the men food,” Master stated.
“What about you? You don’t have a woman,” Mimsy asked the Master.
“I don’t need one because I have you,” Master said, kissing her cheek.
“Oh, is that what my work is going to be tomorrow?” Mimsy asked.
“Yes, my dear. It’s been a long time since your mama was the woman taking care of
me,” Master said staring out the window.
“Why doesn’t she take care of you anymore?” Mimsy asked.
“Well now she has your father and I have you,” He whispered in her ear.
“Oh, well I hope I will do well,” Mimsy stated sliding off his lap.
“I’m sure you’ll work just fine,” Master called out as she walked out of the house.
She walked outside and down the road. It seemed to be that mama and papa were right,
but it seemed so wrong. Then what of those women. The ones that got arrested just for
speaking their voice. Master said our place is in the kitchen, but what makes them better than
us if they depend on us for food and children. It seemed like we are more important than the
men. Why shouldn’t we get to vote for what we want our world to be like. It’s not like the men
are doing such a great job of deciding. She sat down by the pond and thought about all of this. It
didn’t make sense to her. It felt like the world she knew was changing at the speed of light.
Mimsy laid her head down on the soft grass and watched the sun dip low to the ground. The last
thing she remembered was her eyes drifting closed looking at the lake.
Mimsy hid under a table shaking. She didn’t want to relive what happened last night. It
was horrible, absolutely horrible. The bell rang for breakfast, but she didn’t move. She was
scared by the image she only thought she would see later in life. The taste, the feeling, the
slime, it was all too much for her. She knew he would go harder tonight cause he whispered it in
her ear as he left her in the room for the night. Even though he didn’t come back, she still hid
petrified at the thought of him coming back. Then she heard his heavy feet climb up the long
stair and walk down the hallway to her room. She pushed herself as far back as she could go
and covered herself with a blanket. The door creaked open, but he didn’t speak or even look at
her. He just sat the food on the ground, closed the door, and went back downstairs. Mimsy
slowly creeped out and looked at the food. Milk, bread, and an apple. She tried to take a bite,
but instantly felt sick. Mimsy rushed to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet. She picked her
head up and saw him looming behind her. He knelt down beside her and stroked her hair.
Mimsy tried to back away, but he grabbed her.
“It’s alright, little one, I will only do those things to you at night. During the day you will
cook and clean the house. Now drink this water to get the taste out of your mouth. I laid out
some pretty new clothes for you,” Master said, helping her up and giving her a glass of water.
 He walked her back to her room silent and closed the door when she got inside. She
looked on the bed to see the new outfit. It was a short red dress that had a low v-cut. There was
no way it was meant to wear during the day. She assumed it was a night gown, but as she
looked around there was nothing else. Slowly, Mimsy took off her clothes and put on the new
dress. It felt like silk on her skin. She tied up her poofy hair into a bandanna and walked down
the stairs. There the master was sitting in his chair where she had just listened to him tell her
how women didn’t deserve to vote last night. How great she thought of him then, but if that
wasn’t true then certainly he wasn’t right about women not being able to vote or to work. This
isn’t the kind of work she wanted to do though.
“Ah, well don’t you look as juicy as a ripe red apple,” Master said grinning slyly.
“This seems more of a night dress though,” Mimsy said.
“Hush, it is a proper piece of clothing. Now go get me some coffee,” Master commanded.
Mimsy went to the kitchen and got down one of his mugs from the shelf. It was white with
smears of dirt, blood, and oil on it. That was his favorite to carry around and drink from. She
poured the coffee and carried it back out to him. He patted her on the head, took the coffee, and
gave her a broom. Mimsy swept the porch, the back porch, the living room, dining room, and
kitchen. By the time she finished it was about noon. The back patio door swung open and the
master came in dragging mud, stones, and grass all throughout the house that she just cleaned.
“Your parents say hello then,” Master grumbled, taking off his shoes on the carpet that
Mimsy had just beaten.
“May I go see them?” Mimsy asked.
“Nala, you’re mine now. You stay in the house now,” Master said, not even looking at
her.
“Oh. Well, can you not drag dirt, rocks, and grass throughout the house I just cleaned
then?” Mimsy asked.
“Excuse me?” Master said, grabbing her arm and standing up.
“Master, I just cleaned those floors and beat that rug. Now they’re all dirty again,” Mimsy
squeaked out.
The master grabbed her face and turned it up to his face, growled out, “Go make me
lunch,”
Mimsy ran to the kitchen, made him a sandwich, and ran back out to the room to give it
to him.
“Good. Now go to your room and don’t come out,” Master commanded as he ate his
sandwich walking away.
She walked upstairs and closed the door behind her. The milk, bread, and apple was still
there and now her stomach grumbled. Mimsy drank the milk that was warm now and took tiny
bites of the bread until it was gone. She placed the apple on the table. The outside world
seemed so bright and cheerful compared to what was happening in the house. Mimsy laid down
in bed trying to push the nightmares away, but they still kept coming. The touching, the strong
pungent smell, the gagging, then she heard the voice of her father, “If you see a chance to get
out, run, baby,” Like lightning struck, Mimsy jumped out of bed slid on her shoes and bolted
down the stairs to the front door. She could see the sun setting and knew the master would be
home any second. That’s when the back door flew open and in came the master. She started
running for her life, but he was faster and bigger than her. He scooped her up and carried her
back to her room.
“Did you really think you could run away, you stupid girl?” The master snarled.
“Let me go, please! I don’t want this!” Mimsy screamed.
“You’re a woman, you don’t know what you want! You are my plaything and that’s all you
will be!” He hollered back bounding her hands to the bedpost and gagging her mouth.
Mimsy tried to break free, but the knotts were too tight. She felt his rough hands caress
her body as if she was his last meal. Not wanting to see anymore, Mimsy closed her eyes, but
that made the other sense stronger. The cool breeze drifted up her skin as his heavy body
climbed on top of her. The smell of manure and sweat clogged her nose as her muffled scream
reached his ears.
“You’ll get used to it, darlin,” He whispered in her ear grabbing at something she was just
beginning to get.
She didn’t get used to it though. Every night for the next eight years he would come in
her room and do such horrible things to her. At first she bled a lot, but her body finally started
tolerating it enough where she only bled during the month of her womanhood. He never cared
whether she was in pain or bleeding, every night he still went in for more. Sometimes it was
even two times a night, but only when he had a glass of whiskey to drink. While the terrible was
happening to her though, Mimsy always thought of her papa’s words saying, “If you see a
chance to get out, run, baby,” During the day as she cleaned and cooked, she planned how she
would escape. She vowed that someday she would run as far as she could to get away from
him. Then she thought someday, was today. Today she turned eighteen and all her life was
leading up to this moment. The master was weaker and older now while she had been growing
stronger and faster. Though today felt different. She felt sick and tired. Her womanhood was late
by three weeks and even the master was growing worried.
“Nala, you’re burning the eggs,” Master said, looking over her shoulder.
“Sorry, sir,” Mimsy answered, swallowing vomit that was building up in your throat.
“You not feeling good still, girl?” Master asked.
“No, master, but I will be alright. Now here is your eggs and toast,” Mimsy said placing
down his plate and running to the bathroom to throw up. After everything was gone from her
stomach she felt weak and unable to stand. She learned her head against the cold toilet and fell
asleep. When she woke up she was in her own bed with her master standing over her.
“I’m going downtown today. I’ll be back by this afternoon. Stay inside the house and take
care of yourself. I don’t need my child dying,”
With that he walked out the door, got on his horse, and rode away. Mimsy had no idea
what he meant by his child. Even if he did impregnate her, it would never be his child. He thinks
women should have no rights and should only take care of children, cook, and clean well that’s
exactly what she was going to do. This child inside of her had to be protected from him. It was
time to run. How she wished she could say goodbye to her parents, but there was no time and
she didn’t want them to be in trouble. Mimsy quickly packed a small suitcase and some food.
Then she snuck into the master’s bedroom where his keys to the horse house were. She picked
open the lock like she had practiced so many times before and grabbed the keys. Through the
field she snuck, looking at the big tree where she used to play and the hut her mama and papa
lived in. Just one last goodbye. “If you see a chance to get out, run, baby,” No, no goodbyes.
Just like her papa said, she had to run and get out. She climbed up on the big horse. It was time
to see if everything she had done to prepare was about to pay off. As soon as she started to
ride there would be no more late night terribles, no more pain, and no more master. They sped
along the dirt road and traveled as far as the horse could get before he got tired. Mimsy walked
the horse with her little suitcase, food bundle, and a baby in her belly. The sun was getting
ready to set as they saw a shed up ahead. On the porch was an old black man on a rocking
chair. Mimsy approached shyly.
“What is your name, girl?” The stranger asked.
“Nala,” Mimsy said.
“Pretty name. What’re you doing all on your own, Nala,” He asked.
“I ran away from my master’s house. Where am I?” Mimsy asked.
“Very brave you are, Nala. Luckily, you crossed into North Vigina and I am the line,”
“How far is New York?” Mimsy questioned.
“That’s an eight day trot. Why do you wanna go to New York anyways?” The man asked
back.
“That’s where women will get their voice finally,” Mimsy said confidently.
The next day she said goodbye to the kind stranger and traveled on her way to New
York. The horse, Mimsy, and the baby traveled long distances everyday only stopping to eat,
sleep, and use the bathroom. She decided to name the horse Buck because she found it a
strong name for a strong horse. Buck was young and spirited like her. They rode fast through
the dirt letting her hair fly and his mane whip in the wind. Mimsy had never felt more alive then
being on the back of Buck riding. There were more important things to think about though as
they grew close to their destination. Where would they stay, who could they trust, and would
they be safe. Could she let herself trust again after the last time had gone so horribly? Up ahead
smoke poured up into the air and a loud noise rang through the air. It startled Buck, who reared
his head. Mimsy stroked his mane and calmed him down.
“Look Buck, it’s a train! We made it to New York!” Mimsy cheered.
They raced alongside the powerful machine and down the flowered lane. People looked
and stared at them as they passed, but Mimsy didn’t care cause she knew that she finally made
it. A safe place for her and her child. After crossing a long bridge, Mimsy dismounted and
walked with Buck around the town. She had dreamed about this moment all her life and
suddenly it was too much. Mimsy sat on a bench and cried. There was no way she could look
around at everything at that moment. She was overwhelmed with emotions. Relief, excitement,
worry, sadness, and fear all drifted into her head. A woman sat down beside her and put her
arms around her. Instantly, Mimsy screamed out and squirmed away.
“Oh, my dear, I see the rough childhood in your eyes. Come sit back down, I won’t hurt
you,” Said a middle aged small black woman.
“I’m sorry, I just,”
“Shhhh, child, you’re safe now and I see you have a miracle on the way,” The woman
said softly bringing Mimsy to the bench to sit.
“How did you know I was pregnant? I’m not even sure myself,” Mimsy questioned letting
the woman guide her head to the woman’s shoulder.
 “I am mother to all the lost and a mother knows,” The woman said mysteriously.
“Well I am most certainly lost. I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” Mimsy said,
tearing up again.
“Hush now, child, you will live with me and you shall have no fear,” The woman said,
pulling Mimsy to her feet and walking her, the baby, and Buck to her home.
There Mimsy stayed through the birth of her daughter, who she named Kessie. The old
woman who she called Mimsy was with her through every step of the way. She even helped
deliver Kessie into the world. When Kessie turned one years old, she asked Mimsy for a favor.
“Now that Kessie is one and doesn’t depend on me as much, can I join the suffragists?”
Mimsy asked
“Now Nala, why would you want to go and do that?” Responded her Mimsy.
“Because we deserve a voice too, don’t we, Mimsy?” Mimsy pleaded.
“Alright, Nala, but you must be home every night. I don’t need to stay up worrying about
you half the night,”
“Oh, thank you, Mimsy! I promise I’d never leave you or Kessie. You two are my whole
world,” Mimsy said hugging her Mimsy tight.
That afternoon once Kessie was down taking her nap, Mimsy walked downtown to see if
she could find the suffragists anywhere. She asked women on the street if they were suffragists,
but they looked around scoffed and walked away. It seemed as if the movement had passed
and Mimsy wouldn’t get to make her mark. She sat down on the steps of the building trying to
see where to go next when she heard a door slam close. Mimsy spun around to see a young
black woman like her. She was banging her fists on the door.
Mimsy heard her yell, “Black women are women too and all women should have the
same rights as you big headed men!”
“Excuse me, are you a suffragist?” Mimsy asked.
“Yes and I’m trying to give these hard headed men a talking too!” The girl screamed.
Mimsy ran into the building and started yelling, “Women deserve the same rights as you!
Our voice will not be silenced!”
She then proceeded to get kicked out of the building just like the girl before.
Laughing, the girl said, “You’ve got some spunk, kid. What’s your name?”
“Nala, what’s yours?”
“Names Aiysha,” She said looking at Mimsy up and down.
“Can I join the suffragists?” Mimsy asked.
“Hon, there is no group of suffragists. Especially, not for us,” Aiysha stated.
“Then we’ll form our own. Come to my house and we can talk about it,” Mimsy said
excitedly.
“Alright, I got nowhere else to be,” Aiysha said.
Mimsy and Aiysha walked through the crowded streets all the way back to her Mimsy’s
house where a little Kessie trotted out in her diaper. She waddled down the way and reached up
her hands to Mimsy. She picked her up, gave her a great big hug, and swung her onto her hip.
“Oh, is that your little sister?” Aiysha asked.
“No, this is my daughter,” Mimsy said, turning her to Aiysha to see more clearly.
Aiysha gasped and said, “What happened to her? Why is her skin like that?”
 “Kessie and I are runaways from my master. He did horrible things to me, but out of it
came Kessie and even though she doesn’t look like us I still love her,” Mimsy explained.
“Mama, Mimsy eat,” Kessie said proudly.
“Good job, Kessie. Mimsy, I’m home and I brought a guest!” Mimsy called walking into
the house.
“Well that didn’t take long. How was protesting?” Her Mimsy asked.
“I was gone for at least three hours. It was good. I met a suffragist sister. Her name is
Aiysha,” Mimsy said, setting up for dinner.
“Well it is very nice to meet you, Aiysha. I’m Mimsy,”
They ate and talked and schemes of what to do next. It was important that women got to
vote, but how to make everyone see that was the hard part. Everyday Aiysha and Mimsy went
out and preached their ideas in the street. Along the way they meet other women who were like
minded. Soon more and more women joined them. It was gaining traction in the news fast.
Everyone was reporting on whether suffragists were bad or good. Whether women would
actually be allowed to vote. Kessie grew watching her mother leave everyday in the afternoon to
go speak the ideas of the modern woman. She wanted to be as strong and powerful as her.
When Kessie was sixteen the black suffragists finally got their own national group.
“Mama since you have a group now, can I please join the fight?” Kessie pleaded.
“No, you’re too young still. Wait till you’re nineteen like I was,” Mimsy answered not
taking her eyes off the dinner she was making the whole time.
“MIMSY! Mama, won’t let me be a suffragist!” Kessie complained storming to Mimsy’s
old chair where Mimsy had been growing older and older.
“Now Kessie, you know that what your mama is doing is dangerous work now. It’s not a
small protest like before. We don’t want you to get hurt. Please, Kessie, don’t break your old
Mimsy’s heart,” Mimsy croaked out taking Kessie’s hand.
“Yes, Mimsy, I understand,” Kessie said.
“Alright, dinner is served and I gotta go to my first meeting with the group! I will be home
in two hours! I love you both so much!” Mimsy called out as she went out the door.
Mimsy went to the first group meeting and they talked about everything they could do.
They decided to get everyone involved. Whites and blacks should work together to allow women
to vote. Sadly after years of trying they still couldn’t get them to accept. The black women were
barred from the white women’s conventions. Neither could find a solution to the problem. It felt
like there was a problem inside of a problem. Mimsy argued and fought for the right to be
treated as an equal one. Once Kessie turned nineteen, Mimsy brought her along to one of their
protests. They protested civil rights and women’s rights in the government and the world. Very
few men joined the fight, but the ones who did became very attractive to the younger protesters.
Kessie and other young girls spent their protesting with the young guys. One day a boy stole
Kessie away and she took him back to the house. When Mimsy couldn’t find Kessie after the
hard day of protesting, she assumed she went home. The door was wide open and she heard
crying from inside the house. She went running down the lane to see her daughter unclothed
holding Mimsy in her lap.
“Kessie, what happened?” Mimsy asked taking her Mimsy.
 “Well this boy was protesting with us and we got to talking and I really like him, so I took
him back here and things got out of hand and Mimsy walked in on us and she fainted! Mama,
I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do now!”
“Hush, child, this isn’t about you right now. This is about the death of Mimsy,” Mimsy said
holding both of them.
“I KILLED HER?” Kessie screamed.
“Kessie, she was an old woman who saw too much excitement and had a heart attack,”
Mimsy said, trying not to cry.
Kessie broke down and sobbed. Mimsy held her and sobbed with her. After the sobbing
was done, they carried Mimsy outside. They laid her down in the grass with flowers all around.
Then they took the shovels and dug a big great grave for Mimsy to lie in. Mimsy lowered her
Mimsy into the ground. They knelt around on the ground and put flowers around the grave. It
was important to them that Mimsy was buried properly. Only after Kessie left did she lay down
beside the grave and talk to Mimsy.
“Oh, Mimsy, what am I going to do with her? She is going to turn out just like me. A
young mother with no husband. That’s not how this was supposed to go. She was going to get
married and have kids, now she’ll be a lonely bastard who made her child a bastard too,” Mimsy
cried.
“I am mother to all the lost and a mother knows. Hush now, child, you will live with me
and you shall have no fear,”
Those words traveled into her brain and reminded her of the kindness Mimsy showed
her. She needed to follow in her footsteps. So she did and in the next nine months a new baby
was born. With Mimsy’s help, Kessie gave birth to a little girl she named, ​Faraja. When Faraja 
was able to talk Mimsy told her to call her Mimsy. Ever since that is what I, Faraja, called 
her. My grandmother, Mimsy, was an amazing human being who did so much for civil rights 
and women rights. I watched my mama and Mimsy go out and protest each day until I was 
old enough to join them. Then I made my first sign and marched out with them. Mama told 
me how proud she was that I didn’t get pregnant like her, but what she didn’t know is that I 
met the man of my dreams.​ Niles and I protested together side by side for three days before
he asked my mama and Mimsy for the ability to date me. As soon as Mimsy heard his name she
approved of him. Something about her knowing a Niles. Anyways I married him five years later
at a rally and a baby soon followed. Then three more followed after that. Niles stayed home with
the children while I kept on protesting though. He decided it was more important for me to
protest since I was what they were fighting for. One night was different though. It was time to
sneak in to vote in the new election for the congress. I was in charge of being the look out while
the other women went in to vote. Mimsy, my mama, and Aiysha went into the building, but
twenty minutes later I heard shouting and gunshots. Then I saw Mimsy run down the street,
grab my arm, and pull me all the way home.
“Mimsy, what happened?” I shouted when we got home.
“They opened fire on us for voting. They got your mother and Aiysha,” Mimsy said
holding me close.
“NO!” I screamed and fell to the ground.
 Mimsy and I cried the rest of the night. In the morning we retrieved Aiysha and mama’s
bodies. We buried them next to Mimsy’s mimsy. I dug up flowers and put some at each grave.
Now it was just Mimsy, Niles, and our children. For the next fifteen years we listened to the rest
of the protesters, but we lost our desire to participate in the protest after all the death it caused
for our family. President Rosevelt was elected without us, but we didn’t mind because his wife
cared for all of us. He helped make all the states allow us women to vote, but I was still
traumatized after everything. It wasn’t till 1965 that Mimsy and I talked about voting again.
Mimsy was on her death bed when we heard about Mr. Goldwater’s philosophy and she
grabbed my hand.
“You need to vote,” Mimsy choked out.
“I will, Mimsy. I won’t let him win,” I said squeezing her hand tight.
The next month I voted against Goldwater and the same day I buried Mimsy with my
husband and kids beside me. Right then I decided that my kids needed to know what Mimsy
and my mama did for them, so I wrote this book about their lives from what they had told me
over the years. Now this story can be continued by my children as they tell the story of mine and
their lives for their children.