The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [40]
When Zlata came down to meet us, all of us surrounded her as if she was a celebrity. We all wanted to take pictures with her and ask her questions about herself. It was so interesting to see how we had a girl our own age that is such a role model to us. The fact that she was actually here was so unbelievable.
I found out we had a lot in common. We both like listening to music and being with our friends. Zlata left such a good first impression that I’ll never forget her. As we continued to celebrate, we had a formal dinner in her honor. The food was delicious. There must have been at least five courses. There were so many knives and forks at our table. I’m glad Ms. Gruwell went over which ones we’re supposed to use first.
Before the night was over, Ms. Gruwell told us that this was just the beginning and there’s more to come. I left the Marriott with a good feeling and high expectations about our future.
Diary 46
Dear Diary,
My friendship with Mary reminds me of Zlata and Mirna’s friendship. They have been through a war together because of race and religion, and they are still best friends. The only difference is that neither of their families want to prevent their friendship. There’s not even a war in this country, yet I can’t even go to a movie with my friend because she’s white. Why does that matter any more? I thought we were in a new era and were getting over the race issue. Yeah, right! I’m living in a big fantasy world. The time hasn’t come for people to overcome hatred of others because of something as insignificant as race.
She’s the best friend a person could ever have. She’s fun, smart, she doesn’t just hear me she listens to me, and we have so much in common, but…she’s white. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s not a problem to me, anyway. To everyone else it is a problem, especially my family. More specifically, my father.
My father gets angry when I spend time with her. He says, “Why don’t you have any black friends?” or “So you’re going over to those honky’s house again?” Come on, who uses those words anymore? He warned me to watch my back because those white people always stab you in the back. He has no idea what kind of person she is. I can’t believe how incredibly ignorant he is. I think it’s because he grew up in an era of pure racism. Worse, he grew up in the South, and racism was all he saw. Does that make it OK to take his anger out on me and my friends? I don’t think so!
My father thinks she is turning me into a white girl, because she’s my best friend and I hang out with her all the time. She has never done anything negative toward me, and even if she did I wouldn’t look at her as if the whole race did something negative toward me.
Color is the last thing that comes to mind when we hang out together. We have more important things to be concerned about.
Diary 47
Dear Diary,
Knowledge comes in strange ways. I never thought that a person who lived over 10,000 miles away could impact me, but tonight, that changed. Zlata has been with us for four days now and we’ve really gotten to know her well and she’s just like us. When I met her, we were wearing the same shoes! I couldn’t believe she was wearing Doc Martens. When we started to get to know each other, we talked about the same things. About Pearl Jam and how cute Eddie Vedder was. If I hadn’t known that she was Zlata Filipovic, “the famous teen author from war-torn Bosnia,” I would have just assumed that she was a normal fifteen-year-old girl who liked to shop and hang out with her friends. The best part is, that she was a normal fifteen-year-old girl.
When she came, we were invited to the Croatian Hall where she would be speaking. We didn’t want to go empty-handed, so we gathered medicinal supplies, clothes, and even old toys. All these were going to be sent back to Bosnia. This would be our first encounter with people who had been persecuted in Bosnia. We expected nothing less than for them to be accepting and tolerant. I thought they would care less what color,