Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

Charleston

I do not even know how to begin. I am heartbroken, and sick of this senseless violence. I am angry that a young white man has robbed not only their families and Charleston, but the whole country, of the beautiful people he so ruthlessly murdered. The only reason was hate.

What is hate? Intense dislike, extreme aversion, or hostility. If that is the definition, what causes hate? My mind is flooded with ideas—fear, ignorance, and cowardice—and then I remember that no one is born with a heart full of hate. I am not sure what happens to some people. Do we learn to hate? Are we taught to hate? Is racism just another form of bullying? I wish I had answers but I do not. I feel sad and lost, and I wonder if things will ever improve.

I am a Southerner: born, raised, and have always lived in the beautiful state of Georgia. It is my home and there are times when I feel so blessed to live here. But on days like today, I feel downtrodden. There are so many beautiful examples of positive changes that have occurred over the years, but then something like this happens and it completely knocks the wind out of me. I feel sadness and I fear that the progress we have made is completely destroyed. And I cry. I cry for all the hurt and all the loss.

I am a 54-year-old Southern lesbian white woman. I grew up in a small town where there was a lot of racial tension. I remember being on the playground at my elementary school—maybe second grade—and watching as a group of mostly Black people marched up to the playground. I was a kid, and I had no idea what was happening. I was not afraid; at that point in my childhood, some of the most important people in my life were Black. But we were rushed back into the school. This was the beginning of integration in my small town.

I learned more about love and tolerance—and felt more love—from Daisy, our housekeeper, than I did from my mom. Daisy would hold me in her arms, hug me, comfort me, and protect me. To this day I am so grateful for her and to her. She was my world for many years. I loved her and I still love her. She was bigger than life, and many of my best childhood memories revolve around her. She taught me how to tie my shoes. She taught me how to be kind and also how to treat others. Not colors but souls—that is what matters.

Daisy never married but she would take in needy kids from the community. I was never sure how many she raised, but a few years ago I visited her in the nursing home. I asked her how many children she had raised. She said, “Six, and that includes you.” It still brings me such comfort to know I was hers and that she loved me.

I attended a private school for most of elementary, middle, and high school. The only time I went to public school was in second and part of third grade. My parents started me off in the private school and I created some headaches for them. My first-grade teacher called my mom in and told her I was, in the terminology of the day, “retarded.” Mom took me to Dr. Green, who informed her that I was not retarded—just stubborn as hell. I got caught cheating in first grade. Who cheats in first grade? We were taking a spelling test and of course I had refused to do my homework. So during the test I stood up and looked at my neighbor’s paper. When the teacher asked what I was doing, I informed her that I was pulling my dress down. The teacher sent a note home, and my dad asked me if I had cheated. I said no. He said, “Melissa, I don’t care what else you do, but don’t lie to me.” I remember it like it was yesterday.

So after all this hell raising my parents decided to send me to public school, and they chose to put me in a class taught by the teacher from hell. That teacher spanked me more than once. But the best thing about that class was that I made a new friend. He was the only Black student in my class and I sat right in front of him. He was so smart and so nice. When he saw me struggling with my work, he would poke me in the back and I would slip it to him. He would complete it and slip it back to me. Cheating in elementary school at its finest.

I still remember his beautiful round face and gorgeous smile. I did not see him as different; he was just my friend. One day my mom came to pick me up from school and I was on the playground, holding hands with my new friend. When I got in the car, she told me not to do that. “It doesn’t look good,” she said. “That is not something you should do right out there in public. What will people think?” I did not care. I did not listen – remember, I am stubborn as hell. Soon I was put back in private school, where I stayed until I graduated.

In high school, I played basketball and got a scholarship to a small Baptist college in South Georgia. I had never played on a team with Black women before, but I made many new, wonderful friends at college. I was from Waynesboro and my teammate Nona was from Augusta, so on occasion we rode home from school together. On one of these trips I remember asking her to come in and say hi to my parents. Not long after that my mom and I were in the car headed home from a trip into town. She looked at me and said, “You are going to have to choose between your family and your friends.” I knew she was referring to my new teammates. I turned to look at her and said, “I am not choosing. These are my friends. It was not my generation that created this problem, and I am not choosing.” She said, “Your Pa Scott must be turning over in his grave to hear you talk that way.” I did not care what she thought. In my mind and heart, people are people. Each of us was created to be unique and to offer this world something special.

So when events like the racist murders in Charleston occur, I am flooded with emotions. Understanding racism has always been a struggle for me. My favorite verse in the Bible is one of the simplest: God is love. What else do you need? This says it in black and white: God is love. Somehow, someday, love will conquer all. People who use the Bible to foster hate need to understand that in the end, love will win. We must continue the work, we must continue to join together to end racism and hatred. We must continue to love our fellow human beings. We do not all have to look the same on the outside, because on the inside we are all the same: same bones, same blood, same heart, same brain. It is time for all of us to help make this world a better place. I am tired of the hate and I hope you are also. We can make a difference – it is up to us.