Black and White

I have always been intrigued by race relations, especially in the south. Honestly, maybe I should narrow that down a bit to say I am interested in relationships between whites and blacks in the south.  There are probably many reasons for this, one, I come from Arab, Alabama. Arab is a town of almost 10,000 and still, to this day there are very few black people who choose to live there.  Historically, this has been because of Arab's vocal minority of racists, I'm sorry to say.  I recently read Jerry Thompson's story of his infiltration into the Ku Klux Klan called, "My Life in the Klan." His brave work brought to light a first hand account of the reality of what has been a horrible organization founded on hate and fear.  The work hit so close to home for me that there were several names that I recognized in the description of his time spent in North Alabama and Birmingham.  

 

It was not unusual for me to hear that hurtful "n" word used to describe black people from folks who I saw in church every Sunday. After learning from my older cousin that the color would rub off if you touched it, I innocently stroked my African American nurse, Helen's arm. Then as I examined my fingers, she looked at me and said quietly, "No honey, it don't rub off." I have felt guilty for that, and I hope she understood that at four or five years old, I just didn't know any better. Somehow, I still feel like I should have.

 

It wasn't long after I left Arab that I began to meet people so far outside of the box that I had been accustomed to, that it opened up my life to paths that I  had never dreamed possible. I met a friend named Nicole at my first real job who happened to be a drop dead gorgeous African American girl. We quickly became close friends and we still keep in touch. She expertly helped me acclimate to urban life when I decided to move to New York City. As you might imagine, that was no small task!

 

My all time favorite work of fiction is "Gone With the Wind," mainly because of the honest portrayal of life in the south and Margaret Mitchell's rich characters.  Even in a story set in that racially charged time frame, Mammy rises from the pages as a heroine of calm strength and common sense.  The book, to me, is not only a brilliant love story, it is an excellent study in human character and race relations. I know some people believe this book is inappropriate because it contains language that may be offensive today. I do not. What is deemed offensive must be held in the light of history, and most times, whether something is appropriate or not simply isn't that black and white.

 

On this day as we celebrate the life of the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the day before we inaugurate our country's first black president, I don't want to miss a thing.  Even though I am politically more conservative, it is impossible to ignore the profound stride that has been made in this country, that not so long ago, allowed human beings to be bought and sold simply because of the color of one's skin.  I am moved beyond words when I think of the pride that will undoubtedly be felt by people who remember the bitterly segregated south tomorrow. I am thankful to live in this great country and I pray that people of every political stripe will stop for a moment, move away from their fears of the unknown, and embrace this historical time for exactly what it is:  A monumental shift toward that timeless truth our forefathers voiced so many years ago... that every man is created equal.