Thank God for Malcolm and Martin

I was a part of the ''Separate but Equal'' educational system in Birmingham. Lucky for me, my school was an inner city school – a melting pot for rich and poor Negro kids: smart and dumb; dark and light; pretty and ugly. I grew up wanting to be someone other than a poor, dumb, dark, and ugly child. I learned that I couldn’t change dark and ugly, so I worked hard trying to stand out as a smart, likable kid. The 'poor' part was kept under wraps by my mom who cleaned houses and got loans to buy outfits and fabric to make clothes and ribbons for our hair.

I was born at a time when Negro discriminated against Negro: light-skinned against dark-skinned. Light skinned Blacks were treated better. My mom would tell the story of the dark skinned children (herself included) who were made to sit in the back of the class, treated badly and overlooked by teachers.  This happened at a Negro school, but where most of the Negro teachers could have passed for white and possibly did in some instances. That discrimination, in my opinion, set the stage for poor learners with a poor image of themselves.

By the time I was in fifth grade, my mother, out of love, would constantly tell me what to expect based on her experience. The only thing I found to be true was the name calling which today is called bullying. My mom said that she was called ABC – Alabama’s Blackest Child. I was called Blacky, Smut, and Black Sales.  Now when I think about the main instigator, I recall him being the blackest boy in my class; cute but not very smart – go figure.

I wonder if Blacks had gotten their forty acres and a mule, would my great-grandparents have benefited? I think not. I imagine a world where poor dark-skinned Blacks would have been working for and taking care of the land and mules of affluent, light-skinned Blacks. 

Martin and Malcolm are my heroes. They came along and got Black folk focused on what’s important for a better life. They reminded us that we were all one race under God and that we were being held back by the White race. The point was, we could not fight for and win civil rights divided by shades of black.

I am so glad to have experienced the Black is Beautiful: Black Power movement. It gave this dark-skin sister a boldness to say “Yes I Can” anytime I’m challenged.