I Refuse to be a Racist
I've lived a bit and seen things. I was 10 when Dr.
Martin Luther King gave his "I Have a Dream" speech. I wasn't there.
I didn't see it live. I didn't read about it in the papers. It wouldn't have
mattered then anyway because no one in my world was affected by it. Or so I
thought.
There was a black couple working for my grandparents. The
husband, whose name is lost to me now, worked the grounds. But Dorothy, who
helped my Grandmother in the kitchen, (she did a lot more but I was 10. I
wasn't paying attention) was around me a lot more. She was part of our family.
She was black but it didn't matter to me and my brothers. If I'm honest, I have
no idea whether my grandparents paid them an equivalent wage to whites. I'd
like to think it was fair but I have no way of knowing now. They're all gone. Regardless,
we gave her the same hugs when we came to visit as we gave my grandmother.
It was years later that I learned from my mum that Dorothy was touched by that era's racist world. My grandparents drove south each February to Florida from Massachusetts and Dorothy came with us. What I didn't know at the time was that Dorothy couldn't stay in the same motels as us. She had to stay in rat holes where the towels were chained to the wall and that the treatment she received on the way south drove her to tears. She had long passed when I learned this. I couldn't then, nor can I now, reconcile that kind of treatment for any of God's children.
Time passed and we ended up in California. I was in high
school and for the first time I was around kids my age that weren't all the
same color as me. I didn't care because I didn't think anything was odd about
the situation. Others did though. I think it was on day 5 of the school year at
Menlo-Atherton High School in 1967 there was a race riot. Nobody sent me the
memo because I was familiarizing myself with the snacks in the vending machines
during "brunch", a break between second and third period, when a handful
of black students knocked me down and kicked the crap out of me for about a
minute.
No real damage done, I walked the short distance to my
next class with a quizzical look on my face and took a seat in the middle of
the room. Other kids were there but I have no notion of what they were doing. I
was completely self absorbed. I'd never been in a fight before. Well, it wasn't
a fight because I was on the ground and there were at least three guys kicking
me. Bad odds.
The late bell rang and the teacher still wasn't there.
Took a few minutes before she showed up. She closed the door to the hallway,
went to her desk to sit, and said nothing. A few minutes later an announcement
came over the PA saying that school was closed for the day and that we were all
to leave and go directly home. I went straight from the classroom to my bike
and pedaled home. It wasn't until the next morning that I learned from the
Today Show that we'd had a race riot and that school would be closed for the
next few days. Welcome to California.
The why of the riot is relatively unimportant but the
result of it is. I was completely befuddled. What had I done to those kids who
kicked me? Turns out that it wasn't me at all. It was the situation. They were
being bussed from their neighborhood to M-A. Desegregation. I thought that was
supposed to be a good thing.
In the wake of the riot the school took steps, which now
look pretty significant, to bring black and white together through a program
called United M-A. I don't remember a lot of the specifics of it now but what
sticks was the comment of a black girl saying that my dancing was rather
pathetic. She was right. It was and still is. What I remember was that she said
it with a warm smile that meant no hurt. I don't remember her name but I've
always appreciated that. UMA didn't end up working out all that well as we had
another race riot a year and a half later. After the assassination of Dr.
Martin Luther King.
By then, I'd learned about the "I Have A Dream"
speech. I'd seen Selma and other violence in the south on TV. We'd talked about
all of it in class. Through my eyes and ears I saw and heard an honest
discussion of a brave man and a righteous cause. Bobby Kennedy was killed two
months later and I gave up on politics. The good men were being killed to shut
them up. (That was the conclusion of a 15 year old.)
The thing I was left with was all racism is wrong and I
lived my life that way but it wasn't always easy. In the mid 1970s I worked for
a company that had its Christmas parties at the Elks club. Only problem was
that one of the best working there was black and the Elks didn't like blacks.
Go look it up. Did I stay away from the Christmas parties? No. I went and felt
guilty that my friend couldn't be there. That was real chicken poo.
I remember my friend coming over for dinner and afterwards
being in tears about that. I don't remember what I said but I was probably a real clot. We stayed
friends for many years because he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever
known. And one of the best laughs. I love him for that.
I won't be a racist because everyone might be the unmet
friend. The person that shares my creative vision. A great laugh. Someone who
loves God.
I haven't cared a whit about skin color and I refuse to
start now. Well that's not entirely true. I think that the faux-leaders in the
black community are selling their constituents a ration of crap. That they need
the government to lift them out of their dire situations. That's bullcrap.
I've
seen many lift themselves out of poverty and oppression. A regional TV personality,
a city councilman in the deep south, more politicians that I can count. Is
there still racism? Yes, and I will call it out wherever I see it. Absolutely! It's
evil and does no one any good except the race baiters and I am not having any
of that.
Whilst writing this I've been listening to one of my
favorite albums from my high school years. "What's Going On" by
Marvin Gaye. It is one of the best albums ever from where I sit and there are
things we can all learn from that album's lyrics but there's one song that's
particularly poignant given where we are now. "God Is Love".
Oh don't go and talk about my father
God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
He made this world for us to live in
And gave us everything
God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
He made this world for us to live in
And gave us everything
And all He asks of us
Is we give each other love, oh yeah
Is we give each other love, oh yeah
Don't go and talk about my father
'Cause God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
He loves us whether or not we know it
And He'll forgive all our sins, oh yeah
'Cause God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
He loves us whether or not we know it
And He'll forgive all our sins, oh yeah
And all He asks of us, oh yeah
Is we give each other love, oh yeah
Is we give each other love, oh yeah
Love your mother, she bore you
Love your father, well He works for you
Love your sister, she's good to you
Love your brother, your brother
Love your father, well He works for you
Love your sister, she's good to you
Love your brother, your brother
Don't go and talk about my father
God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
And when we call on Him for mercy
He'll be merciful, my friend, oh yeah
All He asks of us, I know
God is my friend, Jesus is my friend
And when we call on Him for mercy
He'll be merciful, my friend, oh yeah
All He asks of us, I know
Then
as now, I keep playing the song over and over again.
Can we learn from the
past?