There are many who believe “politics should be left out of sports.” Maybe, but human rights are not politics. Therefore you will see posts about race equity and allyship intermixed amongst my writings, including those about sports. I am offering my story as context for why you’ll see this, and why this is important to me.
Part 1, My Early Years
I grew up in the south. Now when you read that, images and assumptions may have come to your mind. If so, I ask you to wipe your mind of those assumptions to have a blank canvas as I share my story and my journey.
Starting again: I grew up in the south. The Carolinas (yes both) to be exact. I spent my first 11 ½ years in Mecklenburg County. Years before I entered the public school system, Swann vs. Charlotte Mecklenburg Board of Education upheld busing. While there is a lot of controversy over the impact of busing, I am thankful for busing, because it meant I attended a school that was multiracial. I know how selfish that sounds, that black kids had to be bused into my neighborhood so that I could grow up with them, and yet, I wonder if I would be on my current journey if that hadn’t been the case.
I was fortunate to be gifted with quick learning in school, and was often at the top of my class academically. Right up there with me was this super sweet kid named George. I still remember his smile and how much he and I challenged each other to be #1. (Needless to say, I was competitive from birth.) George was one of the kids bused into my neighborhood in the burbs. As some of you may have experienced, kids who grow up going to school together create a unique bond, and though I moved near the very end of the 6th grade, I can name at least a dozen of the kids from that school and class; some white, some black, and some I don’t know that I could identify their race. In my mind, every single kid was brilliant and I hope and pray that they are all happy and successful.
A funny note: I didn’t know about busing. What I do remember was that my dad played church softball in the neighborhood where some of the kids lived who were bused to my school. Once I told my mom that I thought it was so sad that there wasn’t a school out there for them. She just smiled and nodded. My mom and dad let me experience the world and never told me about some things until I asked (which I did often). It wasn’t until we’d moved away from Mecklenburg County that I learned about racism and prejudice.
I also grew up in, what seemed to be, a fairly progressive church. We had a mixed-race family and a same sex couple who were active members and church leaders. We had a divorced pastor (which in the 70’s & 80’s was a huge deal). To me, diversity was normal. As with school, I can remember the names of many of the kids my and my brother’s age, and as with school, in my mind, they were all wonderful people and I hope and pray that they are all leading amazing lives.
It is in this reflection that I wonder if all of the kids have had amazing lives and are all happy and successful. I know the chance those sweet black boys had a negative encounter with law enforcement or white women simply due to their race is very real; just as real that some of the girls may have a #metoo story, or that some have experienced pain and loss. These kids are clearly still in my heart. They are a part of my story.
I believe it is because of these kids and the many other people who are a part of my story that I am being called on this journey of allyship. It is my story. It is my journey, and if you are even just a little bit curious, I invite you to follow along. I cannot make any promises, and I apologize now for any offenses. I ask for grace as I journey, and I ask for an open mind as you read.
Part 2, My Teen & College Years
Near the end of 6th grade, we moved from the burbs of Charlotte, North Carolina to a tiny town in the Sumter National Forest in South Carolina. Later, we moved to a community in the country of the upstate, close enough to a mall for me to be satisfied. It was in those formative years that I became aware of prejudice and racism.
Around 12, we drove past a KKK rally. When I learned what it was, I flipped them off through the back window of the car (true story – my Mom still talks about it). Mom fussed at me to stop. When I exclaimed that it was wrong and they needed to know that (or something close), Mom said something like, “Yes, but you don’t want to get us attacked, either.” That story feels like the beginning of my sense of calling to become an ally, only at 12 in the 1980’s, I had no idea about allyship was. There were little things I vaguely remember after that, noticing how people spoke of and to others of color, but at the time I didn’t know how to process it.
We moved again in middle school to a community that was really a series of homes and neighborhoods surrounded by dairy farms. Three schools that provided education to K-12 were on one campus with some shared systems. I remember being struck by how few black people were in this community. I also remember learning that the people who sold us the home we bought were members of the KKK and had moved because a black family moved into the neighborhood. I remember thinking something like, “Jerks! I hope they lost money on the house. I’m super happy we moved in!” Yes, even as a young teen I was a fireball.
I remember “learning” that people worried when black families moved into neighborhoods, house values would go down. That made absolutely no sense to me. I remember being angry at even the presumption that this could be true. It was only recently, 35 years later, that I understood the truth that our government actually devalued homes in neighborhoods where there were black homeowners.
Throughout middle and high school, there were a few black people who were a part of my school experience and social circle. The fact that they stand out in my mind tells you how white my high school was. My memory is that I did not “see color” in my friends, classmates, and neighbors. While I very clearly knew who was white and black, I believe I saw all as equal regardless of skin color, ethnic background, learning ability, and even choices. I believe. I wonder what my friends, classmates, and neighbors who interacted with me would say. The one thing I do remember is that classmates gossiped that a white classmate was interested in a black classmate, as if it wasn’t OK. I didn’t know what to do with that. I remember wondering why that was wrong, but not having enough understanding of how to respond, either. Boy do I wish I knew then what I know now.
And then I went to college. It was a fairly large university for the time with about 13,000 students. It was there that I truly discovered other cultures. In high school I had the opportunity to spend time with a group of students from all over the country where I was one of the only southerners…that was eye opening about the many cultures in the U.S. alone, but it was in college where I really was exposed to international students and professors. There were also fraternities and sororities with primarily black members who did some really cool step shows! At the time I did wonder there were black and white fraternities and sororities? I just didn’t understand why the need for separation. Again, I had no context to dig deeper, so I just took it in and kept it in my mind as information. I was in the band with several hundred students and had the opportunity to interact with students of many backgrounds. This made me very happy! I loved learning and growing. Unfortunately, I believed that the world was all good because of how we all interacted in the band. Ohhhh, how naïve was I; how much I had to learn. While I knew that my University had been a plantation, and that the south had slaves, I had no idea that there were buildings and programs on my campus that honored men who were active proponents of lynching. I was in student government and a feisty young lady. It breaks my heart to realize I missed a major opportunity to start advocating for change that is only now, 30 years later, being addressed.
So there it is. My foundational story in the context of race, and the very beginnings of my journey to becoming an ally.
Ladies' First and Ten 