Veronica, Woodland, CA. Don’t look down on me because I don’t speak Spanish. I would love to learn but you shaming me makes me nervous to even try, should I make a mistake. You think I spit on “my language”? Well, you spit on me, your Mexican sister.
Pam Lindberg, Minneapolis, MN. I am embarrassed by the behavior of my race. We need to open our eyes accompanied by our hearts
Holly Richmond, East Lansing, MI. I uttered this statement of shame at 12. My Dad said “sorry,nothing you can do about it now so live with it”. My Mom said “behave so you give whitey a good name”. I’ve been trying ever since but I still don’t want to be white!!!!!!!
Alia Laurence Orlando, FL When I was 18, we found out that we were not simply Cherokee and various shades of European pale. (My father always considered being part Cherokee his ‘greatest shame’.) We found out we were also part African. Specifically, African-American of Malagasy descent. Not that this should’ve come as a great surprise […]
Karim Ali Columbus, OH I suppose I have been pondering my Race Card (TM) entry for a few months. When I read the comments of Michael Sam’s father (Michael Sam Sr.) about his disappointment in his son for being gay, I was nearly in tears, as it reminded me of my own coming out with […]
Mary Bunce Benson Lufkin, TX My maiden name is BUNCE, because of which on my wall beside my bed hangs a tapestry with the words of “Amazing Grace.” Pride in the family stories of, several great grandfathers back, New England sea captain Harvey Bunce turned to horror when I learned that slaves were his homeward […]
Lynn Scott Cochrane Washington DC I grew up in a deeply segregated Charlotte, NC in the 1950s and 60s. When my high school, North Mecklenburg, was finally integrated in about 1963, there was one black girl who always sat alone in the cafeteria. She may have been the only black girl in the school that […]
Colleen O’Sullivan-Velez FL
Mary Lillie North St. Paul, MN
Judy Seymour Madison, WI I grew up upper class white outside New Haven, CT. ‘Bill’ and ‘JB’ cleaned my parents’ house for ‘Mrs. Seymour’, my mother. My mother hung a calendar photo of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on the wall behind a folding door between our kitchen and family room that was only closed/unfolded […]