My mind seems to be stuck in the 60s lately. The books that
I’ve been reading are a factor, to be sure. Recently I read Revolution by Deborah Wiles, which takes
me back to one particular year, 1964. I
haven’t seen the movie Selma yet, but
surely it has other people remembering this time as well. It’s about the summer
of 1964 in Greenwood, Mississippi. This town with its roots in the Deep South
had avoided observance of civil rights legislation, starting with Brown vs. board
of education and continuing with the civil rights act of 1964. I thought I
would also put down some of my recollections of racism in Texas during my
growing up years. I believe that with many families and groups, racism gets
less pronounced through each generation. I know my mother and dad held less
prejudice than their own parents, and I carried on with broader views and am
proud to be the mother of a brave young woman who will tolerate no prejudice
whether it is directed at race, religion, or sexuality. I continue to learn
from her. But I have to confess straight out: I was raised with some racist
notions and it took me longer than it should have to put them aside. I think
it’s accurate to say I am a recovering racist. Maybe that’s the best thing many
people my age, raised in the South, can hope to be. I am not proud of that but
I think that publicly admitting my past thinking is something I ought to do.
Reading Revolution, along with living
in a time when racism is being ramped up again after all that we’ve been
through as a country caused me to go back through my memories of racism as I
saw it during my growing up years. This is my past and the past of folks who
grew up alongside me in Texas and in many other parts of our country.
·
My earliest recollection is being admonished by
my grandmother. We were in the grocery store, and she gave me a nickel to
spend. I must have been only 5 or so because I popped it into my mouth for safekeeping.
She pulled hard on my hand and scolded me saying,”Take that nickel out of your
mouth! You don’t know where it’s been! It could have been in a little Mexican’s
mouth.” I didn’t like the idea of my nickel having been in anyone else’s mouth
and instantly obeyed. This is my first remembered lesson that somehow brown
kids were different from me. I don’t think I questioned that at all.
·
Once I started school I learned lots of lessons
in prejudice, from my teachers as well as other kids. It was well known that
speaking Spanish in school was a terrible sin and that we should tell the
teacher if we heard any of that going on. Again I don’t think I questioned
this, but I did envy the Spanish speaking kids because they had a way to
communicate that was tons better than other kids had. Still, I thought it must be
wrong to speak Spanish even though the reason was beyond me.
·
This lesson was one that repeated itself over my
childhood years. Once a little girl in my class called me on the telephone. I
thought this was pretty cool because I was not used to having friends call me.
This would have been when I was in second grade, or maybe third. Mother
questioned me about that call and when I told her the girl’s name, she said I
should not encourage her to call in the future. She had a Hispanic last name.
She was smart and funny, with long pigtails that I admired. This time I felt resentment at the unfairness of the latest edict: I was to be nice to this girl
at school but she could never come over to play or spend the night and I could
never go to her house. This may have been the first time I DID question the
discrimination. The one exception was if a school project was involved. This
actually came up a year or two later and I was pleased that on one occasion she
could come over with several other girls to work on a school project. Looking
back, I feel bad about this exclusionary attitude. It wasn’t just my parents, it
was ALL the moms and dads. I was thus deprived of the associations that could
have given me
·
From my earliest years I got the message that
socializing with those who were not just like me was not allowed, and that was
especially true for boys and girls. At one point my mom got on me for holding
hands with little boy that I thought was wonderful. When I complained that he
was the smartest boy in my class, Mom said that did not make any difference. I
was not to think about having boy-girl friendships with boys that were not
“white.” As I grew older, the message was communicated more strongly, not
necessarily from my parents but from others, both adults and peers.
·
When I started high school, black kids joined
our classes for the first time. The assimilation was pretty smooth as far as I
could tell…there were none of the ugly incidents that I saw elsewhere on TV
news. I learned that these kids were smart and funny too, but were another
group with whom my contact should strictly be at school.
My world got a little bigger when I went off to college. One
of the girls in my sorority was dating a boy with a Hispanic last name and
nobody cared. I realized that everybody everywhere did not share the prejudices
that I learned growing up. Then as I moved into adulthood my attitudes
continued to change. I think the final barriers came down when I started
teaching at university level and I had students of all colors and persuasions
who were smart, creative, and downright wonderful. I am glad that my world is
not so hemmed in as it was at some time. And I am glad that my daughter grew up
much more “evolved” than did I in this respect.
Here’s why I want to share my stories:
·
I think my growing up years were typical for
boys and girls in South Central Texas during the 60’s and before. It is up to
us turn away from such prejudices. This goes for sexuality too. I am saddened
by people my age who still show through words and actions that they look down
on others because of their skin color, their religion, or their sexuality. Some
of this is overt and ugly, but a lot of it is veiled in code words and
innuendoes. I hate prejudice in all forms.
·
It distresses me that since 2000 it seems the
racists have come out of hiding and revealed their prejudices more boldly than
in years running up to then. First it was 911 and a lot of judging of “brown:” people.
I know some of my grad students reported incidents where they were looked at differently
after that date. Then, with the election of President Obama, the ugliness increased
and even became fashionable in some circles. Again with some people this is
very overt, but with too many others it is more subtle but still discernable.
·
Since my daughter is gay, I have become
especially conscious of the treatment of folks whose sexuality does not fit
very narrow parameters. I believe sexuality is a continuum. People are born
with traits and inclinations that range from being very “feminine” or
“masculine” to points in between. I am straight but think my place on this
continuum is closer to the middle than extreme. By no means do people choose to
be gay or straight. I saw hints in my daughter at age two that I realized later
were early indications of her future development. And that’s OK!
·
I feel sad that the world I grew up in had such
strict barriers. I got shortchanged. I missed out on having fun with so many
wonderful kids who are now delightful adults. I never got to have sleepovers
with Linda, Ruth, Rosemary, Josie, Yolanda, or any of the other girls I now
love spending time with as adults. I had even less chance to get to know
George, Gene, Fernando, Wallace, Catarino, or other boys in my class that were
not “OK” for me to socialize with. What a loss! We grew up alongside one
another but not WITH one another. I grew up with Susan, John, Eugenia, Donna,
Carol, Ginger, Jill, Donnie, Ronnie, Mike, and all the other kids that had fun
together at parties and just hanging out. Our lives could have been so much
richer without the strict boundaries that were part of our “education.” I hope
our grandchildren are growing up in a world that is more open.
·
Finally I want to say I am sorry. I am sorry I
was a slow study and had to go out into the world to really understand how
poisonous racism really is. I’m sorry I was not more courageous and less
oblivious growing up and missing out on all the friends I could have had. I
think it is appropriate to say I am sorry for these things, and it feels
important to me. I know there are folks who don’t want to apologize for things
that happened in the past, including slavery, and that this is being discussed
right now by some politicians. Well let me just say that for myself, I am
sorry. I wish these things had never happened. Maybe I am not directly to
blame for historical evenets, but I am responsible for my own slow evolution. Putting all this out in
public is, I believe, one more step in my growing up. Thanks to all my present
friends, some who know how I used to be, but still now welcome me into their
lives as if I had never shown any prejudice. From now on I want to speak out
against racism whenever I see it, both veiled and blatant.
