Different Strokes For Different Folks
July 10, 2023
In Mobile, Alabama, in the 1950s, Mardi Gras parading societies were comprised of Mobile’s prominent families. Every Mardi Gras season, The Mobile Press-Register had a big spread in their society pages with fancy color pictures of the Mardi Gras Queen, King and all of the court including ladies in waiting, knights and pages. But of course, there were no black people in those. There were African American parading societies in Mobile whose Queen, King and courts were pictured in another edition of the newspaper, but their pictures were black and white, not in color and not in the society section. What was the message there?
In kindergarten, I was slapped by my teacher when Richard Chin, a Chinese-American child and I were playing with our eyes and noticing the differences. Mrs. Yon yelled at me not to make fun of Richard. But we were not making fun of each other; we were having fun. Her actions however, taught me that Richard’s eyes were a deficiency and that I should not try to make my eyes look like his because that was making fun of Richard.
And there were hundreds of other cultural racist “norms” like separate windows at the Dairy Queen, no African Americans at lunch counters or in restaurants and black citizens’ having to sit at the backs of buses; there were even separate waiting rooms at the bus station, train station and the airport. Like everyone else in my world, I just accepted it as the way things were.
Regardless of the unconscious racist indoctrination by my parents and culture, at age eight, something startled me into realizing that something was wrong with what I was being taught. One day Mary, our “maid” was crying at the ironing board. She and I were the only ones in the room, and I asked why she was crying. She said her baby boy just died in Tuscaloosa. She said he was my age and lived at a home for children with disabilities in Tuscaloosa. Then came the absolute shock. In tears, she said she would pick up his body at the L&N train station later. His little body had been shipped in a barrel. She sobbed and sobbed. I tried to comfort Mary but what could an eight year old say? How can an eight year old make excuses for an entire culture ... a culture of which he was a part?
Even a child would sense the inhumanity of Mary’s sad story. I have held that conversation in my heart for decades and it still pains me. The shock made me question cruelty in my culture, though I had no words for it then. Yet, as a child, I returned to my everyday life, the unfairness of which I could do nothing about.
Today, some occurrences shake up those who value the sanctity of life. But many of us say, “That’s just how things are.” Many of us are disturbed but go on. And others make a stand even if it is unpopular or brings sacrifice.
Inquiry: What are some inhumane things from which we look away?
Dear God,
Mary’s tears shook me into a reality that I did not know existed. Wounded hearts. Heal us, oh God. Amen.
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