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Much progress; much more to do

Robert Markel,
Charlestown, MA.

Raised in a very white town in Chester County Pennsylvania, I had little consciousness of race issues until high school. We had one black student in my class, and he was the Salutatorian. At the end of our senior year at Archmere Academy, several members of the class went to lunch together at the Charcoal Pit in Wilmington, Delaware. Shortly after we sat down, the manager, whom I knew very well, came up and asked me to step away for a talk. He informed me that the restaurant which I had patronized dozens of times did not serve “Negroes.” We were shocked. As it happened, V.P. Joe Biden who was one of our classmates was with us at the restaurant. I relayed the message to the group; we sat there embarrassed looking at each other; and Joe said, “let’s get out of here.” We left. I did not return for many years.

In the summer of 1963, I had a summer job at the DuPont Company’s Chestnut Run plant outside Wilmington. I worked as a laborer in shipping and receiving brooming floors and breaking down packages. The Black man who worked with me had two years of college and was a minister in Wilmington. I wondered why he was working as a laborer when he seemed educated and qualified for a better job. One day he told me that DuPont had a policy of not allowing Blacks to take the exam for a white collar “desk job.” I was astonished.

That summer, DuPont changed its policies and liberalized employment practices. My friend was allowed to take the test, and he moved up to a better job in the main offices. In August, DuPont excused any employee who wanted to attend the March on Washington. I called my friend Pete McLaughlin, and we decided to go.

We made our way to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and sat there to hear Dr. King and other speakers. There is a film that I saw at the Kennedy Library in Boston that shows a sea of Black people on the steps and two white boys sitting on the steps. Pete and I did not pay much attention to most of the speakers, but when Dr. King began to speak, we were transfixed by his words and his magnificent speaking style.

Unforgettable experience.

Perception equals reality – OPEN YOUR EYES!

WeddingKathy Devine-Henry,
Smyrna, DE.

Prior to my twenty-seventh birthday, my eyes were not completely open. Up until this point I believed that Martin Luther King Jr. had solved all the race issues in our country and equality for all was the law of the land.
Then I began teaching at a Juvenile Detention Center in Wilmington, Delaware. It was very obvious that the majority of the students housed there were students of color. For many years I struggled with this state of affairs.
Now it is clear to me that poverty and misperceptions continue to foster the unequal treatment of our most vulnerable group, our children. My hope is that we all work to shed light on why certain children’s lives are not valued as much as others and build new perceptions, thus new realities, through this enlightenment.

I’m only allowed to be white

Carrie Hunsinger,
Wilmington, DE.

I am a 1/2 first generation American. My Mother is American (Detroit) and my father is Dutch (Holland). He’s been here almost 60 years and he still speaks with a heavy Dutch accent and therefore I speak English with a bit of a Dutch accent.
When 9/11 happened I was in college in Newark, NJ. I remember talking about the events in class afterwards and getting yelled at by a Syrian girl during a class because I was talking about my fear of seeing backlash attacks in NJ. From her view I couldn’t know what it was like to be immigrant’s kid in America, because I was white, and could not have immigrant parents. A few days later cops pulled my father over on the highways with a bunch of other people because they were looking for terrorists driving mini-vans and he fit the description since he was tan and had an accent.
I have lost count of how many times I been told that being Dutch and being white is the same thing. That all of the western part of Europe is the same. I’ve been told being of European descent, especially being Dutch, automatically makes both racist and more at fault for slavery then other white people because of the Dutch slaves ships. Also, as I am constantly being mistaken for being German, I have been blamed for the Holocaust as well. I am not allowed to be a Dutch-American, or even a European-American. I don’t normally even see Caucasian listed anymore on forms. I am definitely not allowed to understand immigrant issues or what it’s like to be the first in your family to graduate college, or to have a family that overcame hardships and poverty to find the American Dream. I am not allowed to not be at fault for this country’s past (or Europe’s involvement) even though I learned in school along with all the other immigrants kids. I am part of the problem and at the same time, I’m told there’s nothing I can do help be part of the solution because as a white person, I am the problem.

My neighborhood was notorious for racism.

Julie Simon
Los Angeles, CA

In 1959, members of the Collins Park community (New Castle, Delaware) firebombed the home of one of the first Black families to move into the neighborhood. On the second occasion, the house was destroyed. Historian Yohuru Williams has written about this event and it is included in the Encyclopedia of African-American History, 1896 to the present. My family of Hungarian-Jewish Holocaust survivors wondered if the world they had emigrated to was any better than the one they left behind. This event is the dominant memory of my childhood, though I did not witness it. The racist whites did not modify their speech, their hatred and their savagery. It was all out in the open and terrifying.

Ashamed of being mostly white. Sadly.

De,
Everytown, MO.

I chose a picture of a rainbow because I think it fits the subject of my card. I am mostly of Caucasisan (Irish) descent. I am also of Jew, African, and Native American descent. I look white. Recently I have been made to feel ashamed of my white heritage, and even been afraid to speak out about racism or any type of comparison. When I informed people who ganged up on me that I was not just white, I was called a liar because I “look too white”. Doesn’t that go back to the “I’ll decide if I’m black enough” comment? I have experienced so much hatred from people of other races just because I look white. I know what it feels like to be hated for the color of your skin. I know what it feels like to be rejected because you are descendant from a race that other white people consider to be “impure” too. I hear about this white privilege but I grew up in the ghetto’s with all the other mixed race kids, poor as heck, and I don’t know no white privilege. I had to struggle and work my butt off for every penny that I made and I’m STILL struggling. I don’t put white on the race portion of the job applications and surveys. I put “other” cause there is no category for me. I have very few friends and am not widely accepted no matter what race I attempt to relate to. It is so frustrating. WHEN are we going to just drop the race crap and just decide to be PEOPLE? Is there no place for us mixed people?? I’m human too.

What country does my family represent?

Chevelloni El,
Newark, DE.

My daughter attends a multicultural festival at her school each year where students share their experiences, cultures and history. She wants to tell about our history an cultures but I would be embarrassed to set up a table that says that we are African Americans- Africa is a whole darn continent. We have no specifics. Where are my ancestors from? Did slavery keep us from knowing our history?

No, I don’t know the landscapers.

Beatrice Arreola
Wilmington, DE

It was the summer of the end of my sophomore year in college, when I got an internship in an engineering firm. It was my second engineering internship and I was excited that I was working in my field of study. I was part of the small structural section in the company which caused me not to be slightly isolated from the rest of the company. One day I had to go to ask a section leader of another group in the building a question about a project I was working on and after discussing it he asked me if I knew the landscapers that did the company’s lawn. I didn’t and he continued to ask if I was sure because he saw in the newspaper an ad for a landscaping company that had my last name on it. He asked me if I had anyone in my family that worked in landscaping. I thought about it and replied that no one in my family ever worked in landscaping to my knowledge, my father was a trucker and my uncles were either that or farmhands. Finally he said he thought that my dad was one of the landscapers and that he had talked to the president of the firm and that’s how I got a job offer. I told him that I met the company contact at a job fair on campus, was called in for an interview, and then was hired that way. Being a naive college girl it didn’t bother me at the moment but it wasn’t until the end of the week that I came back to think of that conversation that it really began to bother me. To this day I wonder if he thought that because I am of Mexican decent that the only way I could get an opportunity to work there would be if I knew a landscaper? I wonder if he even believed that I was an engineering student.

No, I’m not Italian or Spanish.

2014-08-27-09-42-23.471Michele Warch,
Georgetown, DE.

My mom is English and Native American. My dad is Scotch-Irish and German. I speak Cherokee and read some Gaelic. I have dark hair and green eyes. Its a gift of my mixed ancestry.

I have tattoos and ride a motorcycle. I also have a master’s degree and teach at the college level. No physical characteristic or body modification will tell you the story of WHO or WHAT I am. You have to ask. Then, you have to listen. It would be even better, if we could have an exchange of conversation so that I could learn WHO and WHAT you are, also. I like people. I’m interested in them.

Its ok to be proud of your heritage. It doesn’t make you racist unless you believe you’re BETTER than someone else. I’m not better than anyone. I can learn from you, and you from me. And, maybe more importantly, we can learn that we are all CONNECTED.
Blessed be.

Extremely conflicted, because of my job!

me1David Nesbit,
Dover, DE.

I’m conflicted because I see everyday what happens to people who look like me but at the same time I depend on these folks who, in general, are responsible for me driving home in uniform and keeping my county work ID on me just to have the respect that I deserve. It’s like I have to make sure that it’s known that I have a job so I can drive around and get to where I’m going without getting pulled over for DWB and make it home without getting assaulted by them… see conflicted!

Cracker? You burnt piece of toast!

Patti Bear
Middletown, DE

This was a exchange when I was in 5th grade, over a call in a kickball game. I know now what I was supposed to call my friend after she called me a cracker but I thought she was making fun of my white face with freckles so I responded with a comparison of her skin. Her response? She laughed so hard she fell down and we remained friends the rest of the school year. This was in 1962 and I was one of two white kids in the class. We moved to the suburbs a couple of years later. My junior high school was all white, but my high school was 50/50. I was the president of the bi-racial committee and vice-president of the student body. Enjoyed both activities and loved high school. Felt more at home in Norview High School.

Charles, Betty, Moses, Rose, and Nice

Ted Hudson
Centreville, VA

Excerpt from my fourth-great-grandfather’s 1790 Sussex County, Delaware, will:
It is my Will and I do order that the Negroes I now hold in bondage shall be free from me and my Heirs and at their liberty at the time hereafter mentioned to wit: Charles to be free & at his Liberty the first day of March One thousand Seven hundred and ninety three; and Betty to be free and at her Liberty the first day of March One thousand Seven hundred & ninety four, and Moses to be free and at his Liberty the twenty sixth day of April One thousand Eight hundred and Nine; and Rose to be free and at her Liberty the twenty sixth day of April One thousand Eight hundred and Ten; and Nice to be free and at her Liberty the twenty sixth day of April, One thousand Eight hundred and Eleven. I hereby publish and declare the above mentioned Negroes to be free at the time mentioned & if either of the Negro Girls should breed and bring forth a Child or Children, them also to be free at the Age of Twenty one years.

It is appalling that slave-owners thought of human beings as breeding stock. At least this ancestor of mine manumitted his as of various dates after his own death—propitiation for his sins? I sometimes wonder if Charles, Betty, Moses, Rose, and Nice survived to freedom, and if so, whether they had been prepared for it by any sort of education. Ones tends to doubt it.

My ancestor’s great-grandson, my great-grandfather, was wounded June 18, 1864, at the Battle of Petersburg, fighting in a Pennsylvania artillery battery to free the rest of the slaves. He suffered from his wound until his death in 1911.

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