A Story From a Young Girl

There she was, dark hair, big eyes, some teased her about her skinny legs - she loved to skip and twirl and play outside. But there was much more to her than these things. Her fathers' family came from the deep South (Alabama and Georgia) and her mother grew up in Harlingen Texas - her mother came from an impoverished family. The girl's family lived in Dallas Texas.

Her father was the oldest of six children and quite a bit older than her mother (the youngest of six). When her father was growing up in Alabama, he told his daughter that the family had a "mammy". Well, the daughter really couldn't understand that and why would the family want to have one?

Every summer the family took a trip back south to visit relatives - often the girl's grandparents would come along. One trip the family stopped to see her grandmother's sister. Lurline was her name. Well, her great aunt, Lurline, had a "mammy" (an African American woman) and the girl followed her around the house, talking and asking questions. The mammy prepared lunch for the visiting family and set the table. The table was lovely, the food looked so good, and they sat down to say a prayer. But, before that happened - mammy left the room. The young girl was puzzled and after the prayer asked why mammy wasn't sitting down to eat with the family. The girl was told in no uncertain terms that it was not appropriate for her to eat with the rest; she would eat in the kitchen. The young girl was so upset, she left the table and told her family she would not eat with them and went flying through the swinging door to the kitchen and asked if she could eat there with the sweet woman who had spent the day with her.

This young girl heard stories from her father that African Americans were to serve the "white" people. This didn't seem right but when a parent says something, a child tends to believe him or her. On the other hand, the girls mother included her in trips to "West Dallas" where there were tenements for the poor. Sometimes they packed up grocery bags of food to take to different families, families the girl had never seen before. Many of them were African American - the girl thought this was wonderful that her family could help - but after her father found out he didn't want the mother and daughter to go there anymore - it would be dangerous. Dangerous? The girl had seen how humbled the families were to have help. The girl wondered if the mother understood about being poor and maybe about sharing her life with others who looked different.

The girl cried when Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were killed. She cried when she saw what was happening in Selma Alabama and other places in the South. She couldn't understand why the color of someones skin made them different or valued less than others. Martin Luther King was a preacher and a man of peace. Bobby Kennedy was a champion for Civil Rights - why was there so much hatred?

Some years passed and the girls mother died at a young age. Now it was the girl who had to figure out what was right and wrong for herself. Oh, her father loved her - and maybe loved her too much; wanting to protect her from everything - especially if she had different ideas about life than he did. She was called "queer" and "odd" and she'd argue with her father about some of his ideas. As she grew she felt very bad for believing some of the things her father had taught her.

She deeply loved the African American women and men who were in her life. After her mother died - she listened to the women especially, they taught her about what real life was and wasn't. She wanted the world to change. She began to have hopes and dreams -

On November 4, she witnessed a dream come true, she watched with tears in her eyes as President-elect Barack Obama spoke to thousands about the change that has come, and that some dreams have now been realized, and with hope we can come together as a country to become one nation. Wow, she never knew this would come in her lifetime. It is here and she finds herself thinking about the African American men and women who have been part of her life and is so thankful to them for loving her and caring for her. And - she hopes she loved them well.

As you may have guessed - the young girl was me. The story was easier to tell in third person. Sometimes it is hard to share things about yourself. But, I am so very thankful for this time - November 4, 2008 will be an important day for me the rest of my life. Looking back now, I believe it was the culture that my father had grown up in that gave him his beliefs - it didn't make him right - it just seemed to be the explanation. I believe he sought forgiveness and learned what real hope was before he died. I am thankful to both of my parents for doing their best and sharing their faith in God with me. I think this is a beginning and I pray that as time goes by we will see more changes come our way -


I want to share part of one of my favorite songs these days
"What Are We Fighting For"

Oh my Lord
I have a dream
Oh my Lord
One day we'll see
Oh my Lord
All men be free
Oh my Lord
I still believe

People let's love one another, we're sisters and brothers
What are we fighting for?
Too many backs that are breaking, lives being taken
What are we killing for?
I think it's time for forgiveness, to rise up and end this
What are we waiting for?
Love teach us the way, to overcome hate
And weapons of war.


Singer, Tyrone Wells