““Cono,” I mumbled. “What yuh say, man?” “I said I’m really startin’ to almost hate Negroes, too,” I shot back. Brew walked away from me stiff-legged. His fists were almost closed. Then he came back and looked at me and, like he wasn’t mad, said, “Yuh fuckin’ yeller-faced bastard! Yuh god-damned Negro with a white man’s itch! Yuh think that bein’ a Porto Rican lets you off the hook? Tha’s the trouble. Too damn many you black Porto Ricans got your eyes closed. Too many goddamned Negroes all over this goddamned world feel like you does. Jus’ ‘cause you can rattle off some different kinda language don’ change your skin one bit. Whatta yuh all think? That the only niggers in the world are in this fucked-up country? They is all over this whole damn world. Man, if there’s any black people up on the moon talkin’ that moon talk, they is still Negroes. Git it? Negroes!””
— - Piri Thomas’, Down These Mean Streets, pg. 124
