Pamela Renkel
St. Paul, MN
I was 19, in a small, local technical school, with two newly transplanted students from Detroit, who were African American. I was having a conversation and used the “N” word while describing a racially charged event, which my sister was involved in. As the word came out of my mouth, I was looking at those two your women, and I almost choked. I was so embarrassed that I said it, and NEVER used this derogatory word again. The “N” word was commonly used by my father as I was growing up! It took a few more years before he finally found it distasteful! This was a sore subject in our household for a number of years. A year or so later, when I had my daughter, I bought her an African American doll, and bought the same for my nieces and nephews as they came along, as a way to try to make a difference.
My parents are 91 and 92, and I feel they is still harbor some distain for others not like themselves, and it is my Mother more than my Father. Our family now has great grand children that are bi-racial, and tri-racial who are very much loved, so those racial conversations my Mother used to try to engage me in, are much less often. Even though I’m 66, my Mother can still push my buttons with conversations which typically start with “I don’t know why those people……….”. When I hear it, I give her the choice to either stop the comments, or I will leave.
The emotion of that 1966, embarrassing moment struck my soul!
