No, I am not a "Negro" or even slightly black in skin color. My origins are eastern Europe, where, except for "Black Russians" (which does not refer to skin color) there is limited obvious racial diversity. Lamar's ethnic origins are most likely Germanic. When we attend the annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day banquet, we are a clear minority.
I look around the room, however, and see a lot of racial diversity. Skin colors are a range of almost white to ebony. Facial features can be similar to mine or distinctly African. White Americans have either never learned, or forgotten, that racial identity is more than skin color. That being said, there is no doubt that our presence there is noted and probably questioned. The people there who know us, our friends, don't think that way--but of course, not everyone is our friend. We are not churchgoers (I am Jewish), which probably sets us more apart than race. We are not natives of Waycross (a "black mark" for both the white and black residents).
We are there because we believe in what Martin Luther King Jr. stood for. If you don't remember, that would be racial equality, harmony, and non-violence. He was an activist, a philosopher and ultimately a martyr. The speaker's message last night was exactly that. The Rev. Frances V. Mills spoke of the complacency of the middle class attendees and the need to continue to work towards the dreams of Rev. King. She spoke of racial unity to an all-black audience (except for us of course) and was greeted with loud amens. She generated excitement among the usually reserved lawyers, doctors, officials and business people in the audience.
For my taste, it was too loud, too long, and too much Jesus. In spite of that, her message resonated strongly to me. She asked people who were willing to make a commitment to change this year stand and be counted; many did. I believe I have already made this commitment in my own way, so I did not stand. This year, I fervently hope to see more of those who did stand. I also have a dream: next year's banquet will fill the room to overflowing with a variety of racial characteristics, including more than two Caucasians.
I look around the room, however, and see a lot of racial diversity. Skin colors are a range of almost white to ebony. Facial features can be similar to mine or distinctly African. White Americans have either never learned, or forgotten, that racial identity is more than skin color. That being said, there is no doubt that our presence there is noted and probably questioned. The people there who know us, our friends, don't think that way--but of course, not everyone is our friend. We are not churchgoers (I am Jewish), which probably sets us more apart than race. We are not natives of Waycross (a "black mark" for both the white and black residents).
We are there because we believe in what Martin Luther King Jr. stood for. If you don't remember, that would be racial equality, harmony, and non-violence. He was an activist, a philosopher and ultimately a martyr. The speaker's message last night was exactly that. The Rev. Frances V. Mills spoke of the complacency of the middle class attendees and the need to continue to work towards the dreams of Rev. King. She spoke of racial unity to an all-black audience (except for us of course) and was greeted with loud amens. She generated excitement among the usually reserved lawyers, doctors, officials and business people in the audience.
For my taste, it was too loud, too long, and too much Jesus. In spite of that, her message resonated strongly to me. She asked people who were willing to make a commitment to change this year stand and be counted; many did. I believe I have already made this commitment in my own way, so I did not stand. This year, I fervently hope to see more of those who did stand. I also have a dream: next year's banquet will fill the room to overflowing with a variety of racial characteristics, including more than two Caucasians.
Just as with women’s rights issues the black community has few who remember the way things were and the struggle they went through to change them. The danger of course is that the fear of those rights slipping away has also diminished. Leaving those groups with a false sense of security.
ReplyDeleteAll one has to do is look at recent attempts by state legislatures to chip away at women’s rights, and Republican states voter suppression initiatives aimed at the minority communities, to realize just how fragile those rights really are. Unless the black community sees how fragile those rights are, and how easy they can be lost, their apathy will accelerate their loss.