Code Orange

The whole sad, messy world was on Code Orange alert on the day I left for England. I was on my way to present a lecture at Oxford University, part of a fundraiser for Amnesty International, and it was a very, very bad hair day. I was feeling unusually apprehensive because the lovely BBC was set to interview me the following morning, and I'd just learned that they were already advertising my coming with a titillating lead: "She's been called a troublemaker, hostile and anti-white. We'll see what Patricia Williams has to say in response to that."

It had been a hard day even before that, though. My son had started the morning by juggling apples and oranges recklessly and badly; one of the apples magically grew wings and cracked the dining room window. We'd patched it with duct tape and a jumbo-sized clear plastic garbage bag.

"Look Mummy," he said, trying to cheer us both up. "Homeland Security."

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