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American Slave Narrative

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Rolling over in bed, I felt a gentle shake on my shoulder. Sunlight had just begun to creep in through the window, washing my room in the early morning light. Our family’s slave prepared my clothes for the day as I rolled out of bed. As I got dressed, I thought about my day ahead. My mother expected me to finish my weaving, and if I finished it early enough, I would be allowed to cook a dinner for our guests tonight! I left my room and walked out toward my mother, who had already begun today’s work. We sat together, along with my younger sister who had just begun her own training, and wove the cloth in and out, in and out of the loom for what seemed like hours. Finally, my mother stopped and took my work in her lap. She nodded, and seemed satisfied

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