I missed the Martin Luther King, Jr march yesterday. Not sure what I was doing, but pretty sure it was important. So today I will give you a glimpse into that time in my life.
In 1958, while I was 17 years old, I decided to take a "road trip". Few people know this and even fewer care, but it was one of the most enlightening things I have ever done and probably did more to shape who I am today then a lot of things I have done. It goes without saying that since I was 17 years old at the time, I was classified as a "juvenile runaway." To make a long story short and to get to the heart of this blog, I will just say I ended up in jail in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Of course mother sent money for a bus ride home and I was damn glad to take that ride.
Have you ever been in jail? It is no fun. I was thrown into a room with a bunch of women who were very kind to me. They were also, all white. They talked to me about the error of my ways, and I could not help but agree with them. All I wanted was to go home. I quickly learned that there was another cell across the hall where the black women were kept. Same separation for the men. This was very strange to me. When they transported me to the bus station, I learned that the rest rooms for the whites was one place and the ones for the blacks another. They were very clearly marked "Whites Only" and "Negroes only". Sadly the sigh did not say "Negroes", but a derogatory term. Until that time, I had never known there was a differentiation for human beings. I instinctively did not like it!
You must realize that I grew up in Nickerson, Kansas, and there were only white people there. I can remember back in my far reaches of my mind talk I overheard about a cross burning outside of town. I think my father may have taken part in that, because there had been a crowd of men and he seemed to know all about how it went down. The family moved away right after that. We moved to Hutchinson several years after that. It was then that I saw what segregation really was.
Hutchinson, Kansas was divided into North and South with Sherman Street being the dividing line. Blacks and Hispanics lived south of Sherman: Whites lived north of Sherman. As the upper class, we were allowed to go to the south end, but they were not allowed north of the line. White people who chose to live South of the line were known as "white trash". After a night of drinking, Jake and I would venture to South Plum and either eat at Betty's Fried Chicken, or a barbecue place, the name of which slips my mind right now. We could do that because we were white. White Privilege's were rampant back then.
The first signs of integration in the public work place happened in Hutchinson at the Landmark Hotel and Restaurant. I do not remember the year but it seems like it was in the early 1960's. They hired a black waitress and of course the citizenry were up in arms. Not only was this woman working in a public place for all the world to see, but she dared to venture north of the Sherman Street line! Sometimes we would park and just watch her working in there and carrying plates of food to the fine white people. From our vantage point of the street, she did not appear to be "uppity", but in order to judge her fairly, we would need to go in and actually order food and have her carry it to us. But that was back in the day when any spare change was designated for the "beer joints" down on south Main!
An aside here. The biggest problem the beer joints on South Main seemed to have was the "Indians" who worked for the railroad. They wanted to have a beer after work, but they were not allowed to do that because any fool knows "if you get them liquored up, they are going to kill us." Kansas was pretty lily white back in those days. White anglo saxon protestants were the chosen people. Lucky for me!
Sadly, at that point in time drinking was far more important than eating, or standing up for the down trodden who had "chosen to be born black." And mother corrected me on the use of the word " black".
"They are not black! They are actually a very beautiful shade of brown." However "Browns" was reserved for the people who had come up from Mexico. Now be aware, that there were very few of them in my world! And I am not sure they had come from Mexico, but we called them "Mexicans".
Now, you must realize here that I was growing up during this period of unrest and both Nickerson and Hutchinson, Kansas were pretty well isolated from the unrest in the big cities. By the time I figured out that there was a gulf between the rights of Negroes and Whites, it had diminished to a thin line. After the election of some one's President (not mine) segregation has once more reared it's ugly head. The same faction that follows this man refers to Obama as "that effen N#**@7."
So on this day after Marin Luther King, Jr's holiday, I reflect on the past. For the record, I never participated in any hate marches. I never called my black brothers and sisters by a derogatory name. People are people in my world, They are judged by the content of their hearts, not the color of their skin or which side of Sherman Avenue they lived many years ago.
To this day I thank my God that I was born colorblind and raised by a mother who judged a man by the content of his soul and not the color of his skin.
"These truths we hold to be self evident, that all men are created equal." (Or something to that affect.)
Today is national hug your neighbor day, here at my house!
In 1958, while I was 17 years old, I decided to take a "road trip". Few people know this and even fewer care, but it was one of the most enlightening things I have ever done and probably did more to shape who I am today then a lot of things I have done. It goes without saying that since I was 17 years old at the time, I was classified as a "juvenile runaway." To make a long story short and to get to the heart of this blog, I will just say I ended up in jail in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Of course mother sent money for a bus ride home and I was damn glad to take that ride.
Have you ever been in jail? It is no fun. I was thrown into a room with a bunch of women who were very kind to me. They were also, all white. They talked to me about the error of my ways, and I could not help but agree with them. All I wanted was to go home. I quickly learned that there was another cell across the hall where the black women were kept. Same separation for the men. This was very strange to me. When they transported me to the bus station, I learned that the rest rooms for the whites was one place and the ones for the blacks another. They were very clearly marked "Whites Only" and "Negroes only". Sadly the sigh did not say "Negroes", but a derogatory term. Until that time, I had never known there was a differentiation for human beings. I instinctively did not like it!
You must realize that I grew up in Nickerson, Kansas, and there were only white people there. I can remember back in my far reaches of my mind talk I overheard about a cross burning outside of town. I think my father may have taken part in that, because there had been a crowd of men and he seemed to know all about how it went down. The family moved away right after that. We moved to Hutchinson several years after that. It was then that I saw what segregation really was.
Hutchinson, Kansas was divided into North and South with Sherman Street being the dividing line. Blacks and Hispanics lived south of Sherman: Whites lived north of Sherman. As the upper class, we were allowed to go to the south end, but they were not allowed north of the line. White people who chose to live South of the line were known as "white trash". After a night of drinking, Jake and I would venture to South Plum and either eat at Betty's Fried Chicken, or a barbecue place, the name of which slips my mind right now. We could do that because we were white. White Privilege's were rampant back then.
The first signs of integration in the public work place happened in Hutchinson at the Landmark Hotel and Restaurant. I do not remember the year but it seems like it was in the early 1960's. They hired a black waitress and of course the citizenry were up in arms. Not only was this woman working in a public place for all the world to see, but she dared to venture north of the Sherman Street line! Sometimes we would park and just watch her working in there and carrying plates of food to the fine white people. From our vantage point of the street, she did not appear to be "uppity", but in order to judge her fairly, we would need to go in and actually order food and have her carry it to us. But that was back in the day when any spare change was designated for the "beer joints" down on south Main!
An aside here. The biggest problem the beer joints on South Main seemed to have was the "Indians" who worked for the railroad. They wanted to have a beer after work, but they were not allowed to do that because any fool knows "if you get them liquored up, they are going to kill us." Kansas was pretty lily white back in those days. White anglo saxon protestants were the chosen people. Lucky for me!
Sadly, at that point in time drinking was far more important than eating, or standing up for the down trodden who had "chosen to be born black." And mother corrected me on the use of the word " black".
"They are not black! They are actually a very beautiful shade of brown." However "Browns" was reserved for the people who had come up from Mexico. Now be aware, that there were very few of them in my world! And I am not sure they had come from Mexico, but we called them "Mexicans".
Now, you must realize here that I was growing up during this period of unrest and both Nickerson and Hutchinson, Kansas were pretty well isolated from the unrest in the big cities. By the time I figured out that there was a gulf between the rights of Negroes and Whites, it had diminished to a thin line. After the election of some one's President (not mine) segregation has once more reared it's ugly head. The same faction that follows this man refers to Obama as "that effen N#**@7."
So on this day after Marin Luther King, Jr's holiday, I reflect on the past. For the record, I never participated in any hate marches. I never called my black brothers and sisters by a derogatory name. People are people in my world, They are judged by the content of their hearts, not the color of their skin or which side of Sherman Avenue they lived many years ago.
To this day I thank my God that I was born colorblind and raised by a mother who judged a man by the content of his soul and not the color of his skin.
"These truths we hold to be self evident, that all men are created equal." (Or something to that affect.)
Today is national hug your neighbor day, here at my house!
No comments:
Post a Comment