In 2nd grade, I developed an obsession with Gone with the Wind. I don’t remember the first time I saw the movie, but I do remember watching it compulsively. I could recite every dress Scarlett wore in the order she wore them. I knew all the details of her life and started collecting Gone with the Wind memorabilia.

I dressed up as Scarlett for Halloween. I named the little black gerbil I received for Christmas Prissy, an incredibly embarrassing personal factoid I have only told a handful of people up until this post.

In high school, I finally read the book. I remember loving the novel even more than the movie and reading the 1000+ pages in a couple of days.

What I don’t remember at any point during my love affair with Gone with the Wind was racism.