Hate is why we cannot wait
Dr. Clarence B. Jones,
In a distinguished and heralded career, Clarence B. Jones served as speechwriter and counsel to Martin Luther King, Jr. from 1960 to 1968.
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Laid his change on the counter
Steve Williams
USA
I was 12 and working in my Dad’s gas station in a small town in Nebraska in 1968. I had never seen a black man before. As soon as I laid his change down instead of handing it to him directly I realized he was no different. But too late.
Sorority initiation, we look like KKK
Marilyn Anne Kay
Wimberley, TX
The year was 1968. We were gathered in the formal dining hall of the sorority house, lit only by candles, for our sorority initiation. All white females dressed in matching white gowns. One of my sorority sisters commented, ‘we look just like the Klan.’ This was at the University of Texas, in the middle of Vietnam War protests, peace marches, black power speakers and Greek campus influence. By 1970, Greek System in decline and Mickey Mouse was elected President of the Student Body. Both of LBJ’s daughters attended the school during that time, along with Farrah Faucet. LBJ’s declaration that he would not seek a second term was announced in the student union hall. Some of these students were on the mall when Charles Whitman began shooting in August 1966 and many were gathered in the student union to listen to their possible fate in the draft lottery. The first Earth Day was held at UT. Everything changed.
I Wear Black. Too Many Times.
Charlene Davenport,
Clinton, WA
I wear black…On Columbus Day to mourn…The genocide of Native American tribes by the European white man.
I wear black…On February 8th to mourn…The Dawes Act that forced individual land allotments on Native American reservations…With the government stealing all excess land.
I wear black…On February 19th to mourn…The unjust internment of thousands of Japanese Americans, their land taken by the government while the 442nd Japanese Combat Team became the most decorated military unit in U.S. history.
I wear black…On February 27th to mourn…Native Americans ordered and required to stay on their reservations with no rights of freedom.
I wear black…On March 6th to mourn…The unjust decision of the Dred Scott case allowing the repulsive institution of slavery to continue.
I wear black…On March 27th to mourn…Native American deaths in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend and other battles with the U.S. government taking 20 million acres of Native American land.
I wear black…On April 4th to mourn…The assassination of our great visionary prophet, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., taken from our nation by uneducated racists, Yet still…the “DREAM” lives and moves forward.
I wear black…On April 11th to mourn…The Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968 granting Native Americans the rights white Americans have had since 1776…Even though their rights to America have existed for ten thousand years.
I wear black…On May 3rd to mourn…The inequalities and “profound discrimination” suffered by Latinos in Texas, finally recognized by the Supreme Court in 1954.
I wear black…On May 5th to mourn…The internment by ICE of Central American and Mexican immigrants who only seek freedom from violence and oppression, tired and poor “Huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”
I wear black…On May 10th to mourn…The Chinese immigrant laborer loss of life in explosions while working on the Transcontinental Railroad, driven in a manner similar to slavery to appease the goals of white industrialists.
I wear black…On May 25th to mourn…All African American men and women gunned down by police, And still, in 2020, African Americans are denied their Civil Rights.
I wear black…On May 28th to mourn…The Native American lives lost because of the Indian Removal Act forcing tribes to leave their land and walk “The Trail of Tears.”
I wear black…On May 31st-June 1st to mourn…The African American lives lost, the displacement of families, the stolen wealth, the loss of land in the Greenwood Massacre at the hands of white Tulsa rioters.
I wear black…On June 12th to mourn…Another giant of civil rights, Medgar Evers working with the NAACP, assassinated by an uneducated white supremacist.
I wear black…On June 15th to mourn…The outright racism of Three Rivers, Texas in refusing the burial of Felix Z. Longoria, a WWII Mexican-American casualty who was the recipient of the Purple Heart, Good Conduct Medal, and Combat Infantry Badge.
I wear black…On June 17th to mourn…The Reclamation Act, taking land away from many Latino Americans.
I wear black…On June 19th to mourn…The courageous African American lives lost (38,000) during the Civil War, the implementation of black codes, Jim Crow laws, and segregation.
I wear black…On June 19th to mourn…Vincent Chin, a Chinese American, beaten to death by two white Americans in a heinous hate crime and only given a fine of $3,000.
I wear black…On July 4th to mourn…for this country…Where everyone is NOT equal, Where everyone does NOT have liberty, Where justice is NOT available to all, Where our founding documents are only words, Making democracy nothing more than hypocrisy to the rest of the world.
I wear black…On August 27th to mourn…The African-Americans gunned down by the KKK–joined by the police in the Jacksonville, Florida Massacre.
I wear black…On August 28th to mourn…A black 14-year-old boy, Emmett Till, brutally beaten and shot by two white racists.
I wear black…On September 15th to mourn…The four young African-American girls who died from a senseless hate crime bombing by white supremacists in Alabama.
I wear black…On October 6th to mourn…Native American children removed from their tribes and forced into boarding schools to assimilate them in white culture, to kill off Native American culture.
I wear black…On October 11th to mourn…The segregation of Asian students in public schools by the San Francisco Board of Education.
I wear black…On October 24th to mourn…Chinese deaths caused by fearful whites in 1871 in the Chinese Massacre.
I wear black…On November 28th to mourn…The loss of Cherokee land (69,000 acres) in the Treaty of Hopewell to accommodate the white man’s “manifest destiny” policy.
I wear black…On November 29th to mourn…Native Americans killed and mutilated in the Sand Creek Massacre.
I wear black…On December 8th to mourn…The segregation policy of the military during WWII for all men and women of color who valiantly served this country, many dying for their country.
I wear black…On December 29th to mourn…The 150 Native Americans killed by the U.S. military in the Wounded Knee Massacre.
Most of my wardrobe is NOW black…Because throughout our country’s history the white fathers, the white masters, the white industrialists, the white clergy, the white aristocracy, the white educators, the white elite, the white workers, and the white politicians have ALL been masquerading as the “Angels of Light” up on “that shining city on a hill.”
I wear black to mourn…For this country…but I have HOPE.
On many days I wear white…Because I have HOPE that my children will educate their children in the untold history of our country…Because I see HOPE and change in my grandchildren…in their attitudes, inclusiveness of others…not seeing differences of skin color…Because I see HOPE in my great-grandchildren who are learning that we are ALL the children of God belonging to the Rainbow Coalition of mankind.
I see HOPE for this country…HOPE for the future…HOPE for all of us.
CD 2020
( I am a white American having 10 grandchildren, 3 of them having African-American blood, 2 more having Native American blood, and a great-grandchild (out of 7) who is half Mexican-American. In my 70s, I am trying to educate myself, my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren as much as I can so that I will know exactly what kind of racism my grandchildren and great-grandchildren may face during their lives.) We ALL need to keep LEARNING WITH UNDERSTANDING AND EMPATHY.
1968. Black freshman roommate. Different planets.
Anne
Lincoln, MA
I was asked by Admissions if I would agree to having a black roommate. I said yes, but when she learned of the request (I never knew how), she was angry–at the school, and confusing to me, at me. From that moment on, there was only anger. I was naive and woefully unaware of racial issues. When Martin Luther King was assasinated, I didn’t even understand how much that mattered….to her or to the world. I carry that burden with me now, 45 years later.
No eye contact because I’m white.
Cynthia Flynn
Bryn Mawr, PA
This was mostly not true where I grew up in inner city Seattle, but when I went to the South in 1968, that was my universal experience of African-Americans. It still happens today, even in professional settings.
Why do we have “black communities”?
Vicotor J. Boney,
Acworth, GA.
Any legitimate discussion about race in America must include this question. Fifty plus years removed from the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Fair Housing Act of 1968, we remain segregated and unequal.
Spoke about King, classmates shunned me.
Kit Arnquist
Longville, MN
In 1968 I was a senior in high school. The day after Dr. King was assassinated, the principal asked if anyone would like to speak about him over the intercom. I did. My friends would not sit with me on the bus that afternoon.
Martin Luther King, Jr. Shot. Applause
Bruce H. Weik,
Hot Springs, AR.
I was attending Northern Illinois University. Everyone on dorm floor applauded. It was on my birthday, April 4, 1968. I packed and left that day.
’68, white in a black school.
Kevin C. Lawrence,
Florence, NJ.
Dad fought “fires” in ’68 Indy. Dr. King is my hero, too.
Laid his change on the counter
Steve Williams
USA
I was 12 and working in my Dad’s gas station in a small town in Nebraska in 1968. I had never seen a black man before. As soon as I laid his change down instead of handing it to him directly I realized he was no different. But too late.
What? They’re not from outer space!
Kathy E. McCabe,
Columbia, SC.
Yes, these were the words running through my mind back in 1968, while standing outside amongst the rest of the junior high school student body. I watched with curiosity as the two black students made their way ever so cautiously off the school bus. Oh, we had been forewarned of this “dreaded occasion.” So much so that on this particular day in West Columbia, SC, it seemed the entire student body had readied themselves to witness the momentous event. As these terrified two exited the bus, I swear, you could have heard a pin drop. I recall searching the faces of the student body and finding open mouthed, gaping stares. I don’t think a word was spoken. This historical moment was forever etched in my mind. I’m embarrassed to admit I grew up with a very racist father. I had been programmed to resent this change and to hate all who were a party to this change. Nevertheless, my heart cried for these two children. I could not fathom the fear of these newcomers. I just saw them as two scared kids, so much like me on many first days of school.
Black good samaritans, or would-be robbers?
Samuel C. Johnson,
Keezletown, VA.
I am a white man now 67 years of age. In May, 1968 (a month after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.) I had just completed basic training in the Army in North Carolina, and was on my way to my home area near Philadelphia. I got off the train in Philadelphia at 30th Street Station around midnight, and walked to the entrance ramp of the Schuylkill Expressway to hitch a ride home. I was in my dress khaki uniform and soon a car stopped to give me a ride. They were 4 or 5 young black men who gave me a friendly invitation to get in, which I did. After I got in, I was very conscious of the situation I was in — late at night, one white guy and 4 or 5 black guys — but I did not feel threatened. I told them my destination — King of Prussia, a white suburb of Philadelphia — and they immediately offered to take me where I was going. I was struck by their generosity and we had friendly conversation on the ride to my destination.
My destination was a friend’s house, where I knew I was as welcome as one of the family. While traveling, I had decided to spend the night at my white friends’ home, but I had not contacted them in advance about my plans and so they were not expecting me. When we pulled up at my friends’ house, the driver of the car told me he needed to get some water at the house for the leaky radiator of his car. Responding to my knock, a teenage daughter opened the door. Explaining the situation, I invited my black companions into the house to get some water. As they came in and passed through the living room, all the commotion woke up my friend’s parents. When the father saw several black men, strangers, in his living room he started yelling and went to get his gun. I was filling their jug with water and and when I heard that, I got them out of the house as fast as I could, bringing my time with them to a rude and unceremonious end. My friend’s parents, the father especially, chastised me for being so gullible and stupid for risking my own safety and theirs with these “niggers”. They believed that because these young men were black, they had criminal intent to rob the house.
I was young and inexperienced and thought that maybe my white friends were right. I didn’t know what to think. In the decades since I have often thought about that experience and how dangerous it was for these black good samaritans who gave me a ride and almost got shot by my white friend. And I have become aware of how common it is for white people to assume that black men are dangerous or criminal, and to respond inappropriately with “pre-emptive” violence. I often wish that I could somehow connect today with those young black men who gave me a ride then and nearly got shot. I wish that we could talk together about that experience and their perspective on it. If they have not been shot and are still alive.
Two steps forward, one step back
Mary Lambert
Merrick, NY
I lived through the Civil Rights Movement. I once walked out of a store in SDouth Bend IN and was confronted with a full scale KKK march. I remember the riots of 1968–I lived in a mixed race neighborhood and we often sat on ourporch and watched the fires buring a few blocks away. A lot of good has happened since then. Barack Obama is our President; I idin’t think I’d see that in my lifetime. But at the same time our Supreme Court has gutted the voting rights act. I fear that we are destined to gothrough the struggle again.
