The first time I heard the word “goliath” was when I was in my fifth year at college in New York City.
At the time, I was just starting to study African and African American culture, so my first impression was that the term was a slur.
When I asked a few students at the time why the term “goliad” had become synonymous with “ghetto,” they all said the same thing: “Because it’s big.”
The term, the same way that “greek,” “homo,” “giraffe,” and “golgi” were used, was used to dehumanize black people.
But then I started hearing it used as a synonym for a species that wasn’t real, a mythical creature that was “gifted” to us by God.
I didn’t know what to think.
And when I started researching the history of “golo,” the first thing I found was a documentary called “Goliath” that documented the life and the history and the legend of this creature called Goliath.
As I watched the documentary, I couldn’t help but be inspired.
I wanted to make my own documentary that explored this topic.
What I realized, however, was that this story wasn’t just about the mythical creature, it was also about my own experiences growing up.
This was the first time in my life I had seen a real-life story about a real human being.
When my mother and I were born in 1949, my father was a white man who had moved to New York to escape the civil rights movement.
I grew up in a small city in upstate New York, in a community that was mostly white and Catholic.
When the civil war broke out in the South, my mother decided to go back to her homeland, and my father stayed in New Jersey.
That was when the Goliath myth began to be used as an epithet, as a way to shame African Americans.
I began reading about Goliad, and it was clear that the mythical Goliath was being treated differently than the real thing.
For example, when I asked my parents about Goliath, my parents said that it was the worst animal they ever saw.
And then I found this one sentence in a newspaper article: “Goliad is a mythological giant that was originally named after a legendary beast of Greek mythology who lived between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.
Goliads were known for their ability to destroy everything that they touched.
They could even throw rocks at their victims.”
The newspaper article that I found in my family’s attic, however was far more positive: “One of the best known mythological giants was a mythical beast known as Goliades, who was the largest of the Greek Gods.
He was so huge that he was said to have killed his enemies and possessed their souls.”
I was shocked.
I never thought that this mythical creature would be called a giant.
My parents were just as shocked.
The term “giant” is a racial slur, so why is it so often used as one?
And why do people still call this mythical beast a giant?
It was my father’s idea to name the mythical beast after Goliade, the giant.
When people hear the term, they assume that the creature is the only one that they have ever seen.
When we hear the word Goliath today, we often hear the story of the mythical giant.
But I never believed it.
I always believed that we are all just human beings who live in this world.
When you ask people why we call something a mythical or mythical creature when it’s real, they will always say that they didn’t have a good enough reason to call it a giant because it wasn’t really a giant in the first place.
And I think this is a big problem.
Because I am a white person, when people use the word giant, they are often using it in a very offensive way.
And this can cause people to lose their own sense of humanity.
But it can also cause them to see something very different.
The truth is, we all have our own unique experiences and that’s OK.
My experience is that people are more likely to see a monster than they are a giant when it comes to race.
My father used to say to me, “If you have a problem with the word ‘giant,’ you should talk to somebody who has a problem.”
And that’s exactly what I did.
I spoke to my mother.
She said, “Listen, if you’re going to talk to me about this, you’re doing it wrong.”
I said, I have a real problem.
And my mother said, then, “Why don’t you come to my house and I’ll take care of it.”
She was right.
She called me to my front door and she said, my name is Mary. I