But I’m not scared of them: why is that?

Lucie SlabaSchool of Social Studies Usti nad Labem
When I was about seven and in first grade I was coming home with a friend.
I don’t remember this very well, but I know that we met two Romany boys.
We didn’t do anything bad, we were just walking and laughing about something. But all of a sudden these boys started shouting at us. I don’t know what exactly they shouted but I’m sure I had never heard such words before.
They approached us and started pushing us. We were terribly scared and didn’t know what to do. We tried to ignore them and hurried away. They picked up some stones –- well, they weren’t big stones but they weren’t small either. They started throwing them in our direction.
We started running and asked a lady who was passing us to help us. We told her we didn’t know what to do.
She was an older lady, so she only shouted something at the boys.
It didn’t stop them. They started laughing and kept throwing stones with even greater pleasure.
One stone hit my head and I started to cry.
The kids ran away. They were afraid that I was really hurt.
My friend took me home: it wasn’t very far. I told my parents what had happened.
I don’t know how, but my parents discovered where the two boys lived, and went to their parents and told them what their children had done to me.
Their mother apologized and promised to punish them.
I just had a bump on my head – but also a bad memory of small Roms.
And I think this experience has influenced my whole life. When I see a Rom nowadays I automatically feel frightened.
Of course white children do such things too, but I’m not scared of them. I don’t understand why that is.
Why is that?