Let me start off by saying that I grew up in a segregated neighborhood. I don't think it was so much by force as it was by my family's choice. In those days people didn't mix much. It was just the way things were.
So, my first two years of formalized education were on the "black" side of town. It wasn't until second grade, at the tender age of 7, that I had my first real encounter with someone white. I was bussed across town to a different school. I would no longer attend Newbold Elementary, which was less than a mile from my home. My new school was Margeret Willis Elementary.
It seemed brand new to me. I remember the first time I used the water fountain, nearly recoiling because the water was so cold. We never had that luxury at Newbold. Was water supposed to be cold coming from a school fountain? Apparently, it was something reserved only for white children who attended white schools. It was like being "let in" on a well kept secret. I felt lucky, confused and angry all at the same time. Eventhough I was young, I could tell when something wasn't quite fair. Their cold water didn't seem fair somehow and each time I took a drink I felt a little guilty.
I scrambled to make sense of it all utilizing my 7 year old logic. I wasn't really sure why we had to be bussed to Margeret Willis and it didn't make sense that we had to go to a school that was half a world away from my familar "brown" surroundings. But that's what the grown ups had decided and we went without a fight. Well, I went without a fight. My elder siblings who were in Jr. high (Washington Drive Jr. High) spoke of riots and minor rebellion. They were bussed to Horace Sisk Jr. High School. I was mostly shielded from it all and took everything in stride.
We never talked about white people in my home so I didn't have much to draw from in order to prepare for the Margeret Willis experience. In my 7 year old psyche, I wasn't even sure if I had anything in common with white people. They were just different. That was that.
It wasn't until there was a fire drill at Margeret Willis that I had an epiphany. Each teacher led a long, single file line of students out beyond the black top to a grassy area and it was there that I saw him. There he was, a white boy with white blond hair and blue eyes. He was doing what most boys did during fire drills- acting out.
Suddenly, and to my surprise, his teacher rounded on him, snatching him up and back into line. And he frowned. He frowned. And it was in this frown that I found a kindred spirit. And with surprise and resolute wonder I thought "Wow, they get mad just like we do." Just like that I had come to the conclusion that we (meaning blacks and whites) are more alike than unalike.
I've kept that with me from that day till this (and it still holds true). So fast forward a bit and you will find me having lunch with David Bachelor (wonder whatever happened to him), then square dancing with Malcom Bullard and being BFFs with Paul Tyler and Maryann Dunham.
Yet and still, I hadn't actually been bitten by the interracial dating bug. I still didn't think of white guys as "datable" because it just wasn't done. They were outside my race and therefore off limits in a heavy handed, unspoken way.
Then, there was Barry. We talked for hours on the phone. He had to be the hippest white boy I knew. If I was ever gonna date one, it would have been Barry. He as soooooo cool. In fact, he was so cool that the black guys at school had it in for him. He had swagger and was therefore competition. But then, there was that nasty business about him stealing his grandmother's car and driving all the way to my house from Tennesee. The police were waiting for him when he arrived. I never saw or heard from him again. And that was the beginning of the end of my first potential interracial relationship.
So, I guess you could say I had an okay foundation for dating a white guy but I wasn't actually smitten until much later. It actually "happened" to me as a teen, without my really realizing it. And it wasn't until a month ago this year- as a woman in her 40's that I realized when it happened.
Last month I cracked open an anniversary copy of "An American Werewolf in London" and as I watched this movie for the second time, it was then that I realized when I first "fell" for white guys. Yep...it was David Naughton and Griffin Dunne who did it. All those many years ago. They jointly moved white guys into the dating arena for me. It was a silent takeover.
I have to admit it made me laugh when I realized this while watching the movie again. I mean the movie is a cult classic in its own right but watching it unfold on my big screen television, it was patently clear. These guys were tall, handsome dark haired hotties with gorgeous eyes and bright smiles and they were backpacking in a foreign land. They were having an adventure that seemed far away from my little corner of the world in Fayetteville, NC. What more could a girl ask for? This is a question that I'm asking myself now.
It's quite comforting to come full circle like this. It gives me goosebumps and helps me stay connected to my inner self. It also just goes to show there's always something to learn about yourself. That it's never really too late to connect your past with your present. The exercise is definitely worth the effort. I promise you'll be the richer for it.
During the time I was hanging out with Barry, my mother asked me if I could find a black boy to date. Maybe she was just worried for me. I'll never really know. Guess that was a scary time for her. She reserved further comments regarding Barry and gave permission for me to see him. She was probably the age I am today when all this was happening. Funny.
The best part of all of this is that I now may freely give the teen that was "me" so long ago, the expressed permission to both, be herself and to be happy, no matter her mate's, race, color, creed or religion. Without any hesitation, I can cup her face in my hands, look her straight in her eyes and give her my blessing.
So, without any assistance, discussion or permission from others, I officially give the younger and now older me the expressed permission to be myself and to be happy, no matter my potential mate's race, color, creed or religion. This is a form of freedom. And I happily exercise my right to be FREE.
Be Well
