To the Editor:
I remember proudly going to register to vote when I turned 18 in my hometown of Rome, Georgia. After filling out the forms, I noticed a jar of beans sitting on a shelf. With my usual curiosity, I asked about the jar. The clerk told me very calmly, “If a N-word wants to register to vote, they have to guess the correct number of beans in the jar.” In shock I said, “You didn’t ask me to guess the number of beans in the jar.” Quickly, the clerk said, “Of course not. You are not a N-word.”
