There are those moments I find it very difficult to write. The events and the turmoil that is in this world and in our nation at present. Perhaps there are those moments when one must speak’’; without fear of being misquoted and misinterpreted. For me, I was in a sense born and raised color blind. Indeed as a 4 year old child I carried around a black baby doll (which was unheard of in that day), at 6 I wept because a Mexican migrant worker couldn’t cash the check a farmer had given him. His family stood around him and looked so hungry. I lived in Mexico with my husband who was of Mexican descent; and after having been widowed I later remarried. That marriage fractured when one day, my son’s black college roommate came to my home for the weekend. When, I arrived home that day; my husband ushered me to the back room and told me to get that “N” out of my house. I, who rarely raised my voice; ordered my husband to leave and never return. “This is my house and my name is the only one on the deed; so, you will take your things and get out. I will not tolerate a racist in my home—that child out there is my guest. So you GET OUT”. And He did. I never remarried after that.
My best friend in the world whom I love dearly is also black. A wise, honorable, and caring friend who has taught me so much over the past few years. With all that being said and with a heart of love; I must not sit silently by as I watch people destroy themselves from the inside out.
Continue reading “A Moment of Grave Sorrow and A Silence Broken”