Volume 3 ONE THOUSAND SOUTHERN WHITE MEN
“You want to be a lawyer?” The tip of my mother’s tongue brushed the roof of her mouth, twisting “lawyer” into “liar.” She, of exquisite enunciation, knew exactly what she was doing—washing freshly dyed jeans with the white load. Lawyers…policemen…liars…thieves. To Ma, they were all the same. Deciding to become a lawyer meant I had chosen to be a liar for hire. She couldn’t believe her baby girl had turned into One of Them.