THE 'N' WORD

I was shocked to learn at a very young age that I had been born into white privilege.  Oh, we didn't call it 'white privilege' in the old days, but when you live in a small town where everyone is white, and all our fathers worked for the petroleum company, it was the very definition of 'white privilege.' You just didn't realize how insulated you were until much later.  Much later.

I have always been a voracious reader, which enabled me to be aware as a child that there were other people in the world not like me, and even though we were different, no one was better. After all, didn't everyone read To Kill a Mockingbird when they were children?  Never mind… I'm sure millions haven't read it, as our public schools seem to be teaching to prepare for standardized tests, while Charter Schools have no standards at all.

What awakened me to inequality and prejudice was in the late 50s when I was walking with my mother and grandmother around the courthouse square in Memphis, Texas, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.  This was before Walmart destroyed courthouse squares in small Southern towns.  Saturdays were full of people on the sidewalks trading at the various local businesses surrounding the courthouse. On the surface, it was a "What a Wonderful World" kind of scene.

On that particular day, I had asked my mother why there were two fountains and two restrooms in the courthouse building labeled 'colored' and 'white.' I found it perplexing.  When she told me that 'colored' meant 'Negroes’ and 'white' meant white foks, like me, I still didn't understand.  It didn't take long for the real meaning of it all to come crashing down.

A few years later, my mother shared how badly she had been treated as a young Cherokee girl in Oklahoma.  During her childhood, American Indians were considered sub-human.  Injustice, prejudice, and inequality come in many forms, which should be a lesson for us all.

Back to this particular Saturday almost 60 years ago...
We continued our pleasant stroll in downtown Memphis when suddenly, a man clutched his chest, moaned loudly, and fell to the sidewalk.  The three of us stood over him and kept asking if he was okay, but there was no response.  My mother placed her purse under his head while my grandmother ran into the nearest store to call for an ambulance.  What distressed me more than watching a man struggling to breathe were the comments from those passing by.  I distinctly remember hearing, "Oh, it's just a NIGGER." Even at such a young age, I knew this was wrong. I spent the rest of the weekend crying and trying to make sense of it all, and it still makes no sense.

On Sunday, I poured over the newspaper to discover what happened to him and found that he had died.  This man had been a teacher for many years apositively impacted countless young people's livesple.  His mentoring resulted in numerous young people realizing that they, too, could get a college education.  He mattered.  He made a difference.  I wonder if ahe people who discounted him on that day ever made a difference in anyone's life.

Many years later, I was traveling with a colleague from the psychiatric hospital where we both worked while going to college.  I had a brother living in Dallas that I wanted to visit, and she had family there, too.

We worked the 3-11 shift, so we started our trip around midnight.  After a few hours of driving, we decided to stop for breakfast in one of the small towns along highway 287. My friend told me to go inside by myself, and she would wait for me because they probably wouldn't serve an African-American.  Again, I was still living in a white bubble. It never occurred to me that this was something she had to face every. single. day.  I responded that we were going into the restaurant together and that if they didn't serve us, we would leave immediately…together.  Fortunately, we didn't have any problems that day, but she thought it was probably because one of us was white.

In the late '70s through the late '80s, I worked for the national organization of the United Cerebral Palsy Association, which was based in New York City.  I spent several days a month at the national office for 11 years.  One would think this was a time and place that was progressive.  Wrong. My supervisor, who helped write Public Law 94-142 (the law ensures that children with disabilities receive appropriate education), was severely beaten when he and his partner walked while holding hands across a bridge one night.  A few years later when we were in Houston on business, he was beaten, again. His only 'crime' was that he was gay.  He and his partner were together for 50 years until their deaths.  I wonder how many heterosexual couples stay together that long.

I was reminded about these incidents because of the current mood of our country and how racism (and homophobia) seems to be rearing its unfiltered ugly head. I'm appalled when I hear the' n' word or see the Confederate flag openly displayed, which is the symbol of slavery and white supremacy for so many. It's heartbreaking to see what we've become. Obviously, it was always there, but well hidden.  Yet, I'm still living on the 'white privilege' side of things and don't have to face what many face on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.  Inequality, racism, sexism, homophobia, religious intolerance, and prejudice are all issues that we have to guard against.  And now, we have to be vigilant more than ever because the dark side of many individuals is becoming the new normal.  This is what horrifies me the most. We're starting over. We are better than this.  Speak out, say something, stand-up for things greater than yourself…Make a difference.