I Was Raised to Belittle a King

Martin Luther King’s Birthday being observed today brings to mind many things for me, one of which is the horrible title this day was given during my prejudice upbringing. Although the South truly is moving forward in many aspects, as far as equality, I remember a time when the town I now live in heralded a sign at each border on its main road which read, “Nigger, don’t let the sun go down on your black ass.” This was not just a threat or prank posted by kids, but by willing, grown men.

I was taught about a loving God in a Southern Baptist Church, and learned that not only did Christ have dark skin (my step-father would have called His people “Sand Niggers”), but that He loved everyone and created everyone the same. Christ consorted with harlots, murderers, and thieves. He loved the very people that I was told the black race was exactly like. The revelations that all people are created equally by God, juxtapose to the position my step-father insisted was correct, claiming African Americans were no better than animals, was a bit confusing. If I kept the Law of God, as I was told to do growing up, I could not keep the “Law of Dad,” as I was told to keep growing up.

My schooling was at a Christian school, teaching the same loving doctrine of Christ that my church did. But my interaction with African Americans was limited to a janitor named James, who I truly admired and came to be quite fond of. I never spoke of the funny, kind man at school who happened to be black. It would have caused quite a stir in my family. Attending an all-white school until High School, I remained limited in the truthful knowledge of African Americans, in general.

My tenth grade year at a public school was overwhelming, to say the least. There were so many students there! There were also many students who were not Caucasian. In a Physical Education Class, I met a girl who seemed to be exactly like myself, but was African American. We became good friends, with me always hiding our friendship from my parents. I finally summoned the courage to ask permission to have her over for a visit. I lost my nerve when it came time to divulge what race she belonged to.

The visit planned, she was even going to be allowed to spend the night. A Run DMC concert was scheduled for that same weekend, and my friend invited me along, as she had an extra ticket. The plan was to go to the concert, then stay at my house afterward. Summoning courage, I asked my parents if I may attend the concert with my new friend. Run DMC being black artists, they grew suspicious, and finally drew the truth from me. I was then faced with having to explain to Sabrina why we could do nothing extra-curricular together.

This began a revolt in me that grew into a deep rebellion against my parents. I knew in my heart that people everywhere, being creations of God, were equal in their humanity, as well as in the level of respect that they deserve. This rebellion carried into my own parenting, as I was determined to have children who are blind to the distinguishing colors of the South. Every year, on Martin Luther King’s Birthday, I am reminded of my revolt against the prejudice hypocrites of this region, and smile while reciting one of the greatest speeches written in our nation’s history, “I Have a Dream,” for I have one, also.