Racism: My Truth

I did a thing last week. I deactivated my facebook account. I was sick of the sickness of hate and fear being spread across social media and I personally didn't want to see it anymore. It was literally affecting my mental status and trickling down into my daily life. I had to do something to change myself as it was obvious I have no control over anyone else.

Of course being able to stay deactivated is not as easy as it sounds, as I am an administrator for several facebook groups, so I reactivated, but I hid my fb app button so that it was not automatically the first button I hit when I got on my computer or my phone and I only go on fb when my notifications tell me that someone has specifically tried to message me or tagged me. It has worked beautifully. It has also given me some much needed time to think without social media and the news media trying to influence my thoughts. It has given me some much needed peace too, as well as a chance to process who I am in this world and how I or if I fit into all the unrest. The following is my feelings, beliefs....my truth if you will on racism in 2020.

I have never owned slaves in my lifetime. While I may have family members in my family tree who have, I doubt it. My family was mainly white republicans who fought for the north against slavery. Those of my family who were from the south were so poor that they themselves were often times hired out as help. And....my family underwent their share of discrimination and racism as they were poor Irish Catholics who came to this country by ship and who were treated as if they were less than animals. This was another less than glorious time in our countries history, but you actually hear little about it.

The facts of my life are this. If I see someone who is hurt or in danger, skin color makes no difference. I help. If I am standing in line in the supermarket and the person in front of me does not have the money to cover their groceries, skin color makes no difference. I help. Skin color has never once in my life affected how I treated another human being and I can't see that ever changing. To me, character, soul and what is on the inside matter. Color is external and means very little to me.

My first best friend in first grade was a little girl named Lisa. She was one of the first in the desegregation process to be bussed. She was a beautiful little black girl whose hair was always done in braids. Perhaps I was drawn to her because she was different. Most of us feel different at one time or another and at 6 years old, it is hard to be in a new school all the way across town with kids who are white and you are black. I remember thinking that I didn't want her to be scared or alone, two things I was sure that I would have felt had the shoe been on the other foot. We hit it off and were fast friends in the classroom and on the playground. Color didn't matter, except for the fact that she used to say that she was a chocolate ice cream cone and I was a vanilla ice cream cone. We were different colors but we were both still ice cream.

While I can't speak to life during the desegregation process in other parts of the country, in little Wichita, KS, my experience and what I saw were much different I am sure, than what was going on in more urban parts of the country. Yes, Wichita had it's place in helping to change racism but when it came to bussing, both sides had a tough time dealing. Before bussing took place in Wichita, there were black neighborhoods and white neighborhoods and each had schools, most of the time within walking distance in those neighborhoods. In an era where many homes had either no cars or only one car, having your child within walking distance was almost a necessity. When bussing began though, both white and black families were put on a lottery and during the summer, if your number came up, your family/kids would be bussed across town to a different school come fall. While this was a wonderful thing in the respect of desegregation, it was tough for families with kids who had to be on a bus at 6 a.m. and often didn't make it home until after 5 p.m. Those were long days for little ones and although equality was what was wanted and needed, starting out, it was throwing kids into completely different surroundings, different culture and with different people of a different color. Those were not easy times, even for 6 year olds who had no idea what racism was and why they couldn't stay in their own neighborhoods and go to their own school with friends they had known forever.

Even though we lived in Kansas in the 1960's, there was still a pretty decent amount of unrest. My mom and Lisa's mom met at a school open house. Being little girls who wanted to play together and not just at school, I still remember our mothers trying to figure out a way for us to make it happen. After much discussion, it came down to the fact that Lisa's mom said at the current time it probably wasn't safe for a little white girl to be playing in their neighborhood, and she didn't feel comfortable with Lisa coming to my house as it was an all white neighborhood. Neither mom was upset, it was just the times we lived in. Only Lisa and I were upset and being six, neither of us understood that our color was the reason we couldn't play together.

The next year my family moved and from my second grade year until my seventh grade year, I was in several different schools. I went from an all white Catholic school, to a school in New Mexico with a variety of kids of colors and races as we lived right off an Air Force Base. Then I moved to a small oil town back in Kansas where the kids were actually about a half black and half white. I was pretty proficient at making friends wherever I went and my friendships were never based on color. They were always based on whoever seemed to take a liking to you for whatever reason.

When I moved to the current town I live in back in the 1970's, it was predominantly white. I believe there was only one black family in the town and I really didn't know them because their kids weren't around my age. I think this was the first time I ever realized what racism was though. I worked in a grocery store as a checkout person and the store management was mostly older people. Now I was taught to respect people (especially my elders) regardless of what I thought. I also knew that respecting them, didn't always mean agreeing with them. The first time I was working when the black family came in, it was just the man and his wife. When they went up and down the aisles to shop, it was as if people just avoided the aisles they were on. Then when it was time to check them out, no checker could be found. At that point, I was still just a sack girl and had not been trained to check yet. I remember trying to call a checker to the front and being so embarrassed that none were coming. Eventually, I went and dragged one out of the break room and made it uncomfortable enough that she had to check them out. She was about 50 and very rude and cold to them. I carried out their groceries and apologized to them. They were so kind. From the moment I became a checker, I made sure to be up at the front if they came in and they never had to wait to be checked out. My manager never said anything to me, although I know he watched me check them out, several times. I remember talking to my mother about this and her saying, "You respect that you have a job. You can't change your managers but you can be the best person and best employee you can be. Make that family feel respected when they come in, even if it's by no one but you." So I did.

It wasn't until I was an adult and worked at a hospital that I peered into the world we lived in yet again. At the hospital I worked with all kinds of people who were all colors and all ethnicities. One girl that I worked with, I really liked. She was very smart and knew her job well and she was the "go to" person for any questions. She was patient, kind and knowledgeable. She was also black. She was about my age at the time which was early 20's and she had developed a blood clot in her leg. I remember it being a very scary situation and all of us who worked with her were concerned. The clot eventually dissolved but during the time, she continued to try and work as much as possible. Then she found out she was pregnant. She was so excited and we were so excited for her. We spent weeks planning gifts for the baby shower we knew her mom was going to have for her. When the party day arrived, it was on a hot Saturday in the middle of the summer. One by one we all showed up to her mother's house which happened to be in a black neighborhood. The party was outdoors and started in the afternoon. It was a big affair with all of her family and local friends there. The only whites there were us 10 or so coworkers. I really thought nothing of it and had a wonderful time. Everyone was so nice and so kind and she had a such a good time celebrating the impending birth of her child. As the afternoon began to turn into evening and people began to leave, I started helping to clean up. I was one of the few left and the only white girl left. When her mother realized I was still there, she literally grabbed my purse and walked me quickly to my car. She was very kind but told me that I had to leave immediately and to keep my windows rolled up and to not stop for anyone no matter what. I had no idea why but I did as I was told. The next Monday at work, I asked my friend why her mother had acted that way. I thought perhaps I had done something wrong. No. She explained that whites in a black neighborhood after dark were safe for no one. She didn't want me to risk getting hurt. I truly had no idea that it was even a possibility.

Since that time, I have known blacks of all income levels, religions, skin variations, political affiliations and beliefs. I have known some of the nicest, kindest blacks and I have known blacks that were liars, thieves and wished me harm. The contrast to that is that I have also known whites of all income levels, religions, skin variations, political affiliations and beliefs. I have known some of the nicest, kindest whites and I have known whites that were liars, thieves and wished me harm.

I am not black and therefore I cannot know what it feels like to be black. I don't know what struggles they have personally gone through and I don't know their anger and frustration. What I do know is that I have never been unkind to anyone because of the color of their skin. I have never thought less of or treated someone with malice, hate or cruelty because they were black, brown or any other color. I would help any human of any color if I saw they needed it and I can sure tell you that I wouldn't stand back and take video if I thought another human being was in trouble or dying.

I will not apologize for being white and I will not feel bad for being who I am as a person. I am just as God made me. I cannot change those who hate for the sake of hating or those who let color decide a persons worth. I cannot change the past, nor the actions of those in the past. I cannot change the bad in people of all colors and I can't make people hear my words. All I can do is continue to be me. To make sure that I am the best person I can be and to teach the same to my kids and grand kids. I can just keep trying to do the next right thing.

The sins of the past cannot be atoned for by those who had no hand in them. Hate will not be quelled with more hate. Ignorance and fear are the most infectious diseases out there and as long as they are allowed to fester, we will continue to create more of each. Until we come together as human beings and quit allowing ourselves to be divided, we will all remain losers in the fight for equality and respect. You can't allow your anger to rule you, regardless of how justified you feel it is, for anger never solved anything but can destroy everything.

All races/skin colors/ethnicities should be proud of who they are. Finding pride in yourself and who you are, does not discount it in others. I am proud of who I am as a white person, a woman, a mother, a grandmother and a human being. I have never done anything to disrespect anyone and I think it is time that we all start seeing and celebrating the pride in who we are as individuals.

My truth may not be your truth, but it does not make it invalid nor wrong. I pray everyday for the country and all the humans (regardless of color) who live here. Peace and the ability to equally live side by side are the goals, but until then, I pray we all just find some common ground and a place to begin in the here and now.