With all of the publicity about the movie "The Butler," I'm reminded of growing up in the segregated South.
We owe a debt of eternal gratitude to the brave souls who confronted Jim Crow head on. God knows, things aren't perfect now, but they're better.
We're better.
At my home in Texas in the 50's, 60's and beyond, we didn't protest, object, or push back. My folks understood the real threat of harm for those who did, and they made sure we took a passive role of support. From the television, where the brutality of segregation was sometimes seen, we said a hushed thank you to the black and white folks who took up the mantle and made a positive difference for all of us.
But my folks were afraid to speak up.
Afraid of the backlash of protesting.
Afraid we'd come up missing.
Afraid we'd be hurt, or worse.
You see, terrorism was a real threat for many of us, long before 9/11.
When I think of this time, I wonder if the roles were reversed, if I would have responded differently.
I wonder . . . would I, like Ruby Bridges' parents, have sent Ben or Frankie off all alone, as first graders, to an all-white school that didn't want integration, knowing they would have been ridiculed and scorned, simply because they're black? Would I have allowed them to be treated so poorly and possibly even hurt?
Honestly, no. I wouldn't have.
But thank God, for those parents who did.
Where would we be, if someone had not said, "Enough is enough," and followed that with real action, ushering in real breakthroughs?
When race matters come up, black folks are often encouraged to "get over it" and "move on." I understand the comments, but I don't think the folks who are making these suggestions, get it. They don't seem to understand that every experience we go through (good, bad or indifferent), frames who we become and creates the lens through which we see the world.
Yes, times have changed.
And, yes . . .
Things are better.
But . . .
. . . when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. - George Santayana
We owe a debt of eternal gratitude to the brave souls who confronted Jim Crow head on. God knows, things aren't perfect now, but they're better.
We're better.
At my home in Texas in the 50's, 60's and beyond, we didn't protest, object, or push back. My folks understood the real threat of harm for those who did, and they made sure we took a passive role of support. From the television, where the brutality of segregation was sometimes seen, we said a hushed thank you to the black and white folks who took up the mantle and made a positive difference for all of us.
But my folks were afraid to speak up.
Afraid of the backlash of protesting.
Afraid we'd come up missing.
Afraid we'd be hurt, or worse.
You see, terrorism was a real threat for many of us, long before 9/11.
When I think of this time, I wonder if the roles were reversed, if I would have responded differently.
I wonder . . . would I, like Ruby Bridges' parents, have sent Ben or Frankie off all alone, as first graders, to an all-white school that didn't want integration, knowing they would have been ridiculed and scorned, simply because they're black? Would I have allowed them to be treated so poorly and possibly even hurt?
Honestly, no. I wouldn't have.
But thank God, for those parents who did.
Where would we be, if someone had not said, "Enough is enough," and followed that with real action, ushering in real breakthroughs?
When race matters come up, black folks are often encouraged to "get over it" and "move on." I understand the comments, but I don't think the folks who are making these suggestions, get it. They don't seem to understand that every experience we go through (good, bad or indifferent), frames who we become and creates the lens through which we see the world.
Yes, times have changed.
And, yes . . .
Things are better.
But . . .
. . . when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. - George Santayana
Because of Them, We Are!
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