Racism

How Did I Get From There to Here?

If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?

Warning: use of the N word is used in context in this story.

I often wonder how I became the person I am.  I was born in 1950, a Baby Boomer, in the Deep South.  I was raised Southern Baptist by a very devout mother and a father who attended as often as his conscience prompted him.  The influence in our home was definitely ultra-conservative and racist. Everything was segregated.  Water fountains and business entrances were marked white and colored.  Should a black person come to our house, they knocked on the back door, 

I never knew a single black person by name till I met Rosie, a black lady who occasionally cleaned for Mother.  One day Rosie told me she had a little girl just my age, three years old,  I was enchanted, desperate to know more and perhaps play with her little girl.

Innocently, I blurted out, “Is she a nigger?” As young as I was, the hurt look on Rosie’s face showed me I’d said something horrible.

Kindly but firmly, she corrected me. “She’s the same color as me but it’s wrong to say nigger. Say colored.” Rosie was as kind as ever afterward. I was so glad she didn’t stay mad.

Not too long afterward, Rosie had no one to keep Cynthia, so she had to bring her along. I was ecstatic to get to play with her all day. I couldn’t wait to share news of my new friend the second Daddy walked in the door. Rosie had crossed the line. I never saw her or sweet little Cynthia again.

I pray we never go back to that hate-filled time.

Racism

What’s a topic or issue about which you’ve changed your mind?

Born in 1950, I was raised in the rabidly racist South. I heard the N word daily, though my mother forbade it. My father had no such compunctions. I fully bought into racism, sure whites were superior. I didn’t know a single black person. Then I went to college. I made black friends. I would have liked to have invited them home a but knew that would ignite a firestorm. I am so grateful I learned the truth. If I learned, anyone can.

Unity and Peace

unityIn the face of the brutality black people are facing from police today, I am moved to wonder what I can do.  I can speak up saying this is wrong.  I can vote responsibly.  I can speak up when I hear racial slurs.  I can also speak up against irresponsible, destructive behavior.  Looting perpetuates violence against blacks. Everybody has to step up to do their part to straighten this mess out.  I salute the mother who pulled her son out of the looting and off the street. I know many people will be critical of her for hitting her son, but she reacted in fear of losing her son to violence.  The two of them have the rest of their lives to come to terms with what they both did that day. We should all support people who are trying to do the right thing. Please join hands to build a community for everyone.  All children need education, food, and opportunity.  Don’t deny children and perpetuate this craziness.  Opportunities should be universal, not a privilege! Give us unity and peace.

Hard Times

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My dad was born in rural Northwest Louisiana in 1924, growing up during the bleakest of The Great Depression.  Fourth of seven children born to a sharecropper who was barely scratching a living out of the red dirt, life got even harder for the family when his father died, leaving a destitute widow and six children under sixteen with only a mule, a Continue reading →