I grew up in a town where people who didn’t look like me lived on the other side of town, on the other side of the tracks (literally.) The town was, of course, more white than black, and my memory isn’t good enough to recall an accurate ratio of white kids to black kids at my elementary school, but 3 to 1 is my best guess, and is probably close.
I will never forget one particular time when I used “the word.” I can’t recall what grade I was in at the time, but I believe it was either fourth or fifth. After recess, in which my team had lost a particularly competitive game of kickball to a team primarily comprised of black kids, I was angry and let my feelings be known to a white friend in the hallway on our way to the restroom. That’s when it happened. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I used “the word.” And a black friend in my class, walking behind us, overheard me.
Understandably, he made a big scene and started shouting at me – in the hallway, into the restroom, while I was actually using the restroom. He was angry – and rightfully so – and I was angry, too, although probably more so at the fact that I’d been heard than the fact that I was an idiot. It wasn’t the first time I’d said it, and it probably wasn’t the last.
But what I remember most vividly was returning to my classroom. The word had already spread. When I walked in, I saw a friend of mine staring at me, with watery eyes. She was a good friend of mine. She had been since we were in kindergarten. She was one of my best female friends in my grade. And she was black.
That’s the last thing I remember about that day.
I’ve changed a lot since that day. Growing up in the 70’s, there were a lot of things that were not frowned upon the way they are today. Political correctness had not taken hold of society as strongly as it has these days. You could “get away with” a lot of things that you can’t today without being called on it or punished for it. Things have changed, and most of it is for the better.
I was still a few weeks away from my first birthday when Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered in Memphis. On this 40th anniversary of that tragic event, I am only a little bit proud of how far I’ve come since that day in the late 70’s, being very aware that I still have a long way to go. I believe we all do. This country has made significant progress since that day in Memphis when King was taken from us, and I believe that, were he alive today, he would praise that progress. But I believe that he would also lament that we’ve not made it further than we have. Despite the advances we have made in matters of race, we’re not there yet.
I honestly cannot remember if I apologized to my good friend or anyone else for my stupidity that day after recess. I believe I did, as she and I remained good friends, and I did maintain a good relationship with all of my black classmates after that day, even the guy who overheard me. I probably haven’t seen either of them since the early 80’s, after I left prior to our 9th grade year to attend a private school. I don’t know where they’re at or what they’re doing these days, but I hope, if they remember this story, that they know that I’m sorry, and that I’m ashamed of my part in it, and have forgiven me.
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