I grew up in public school classes being told the American Civil War was fought over the “economy” and “states’ rights.” Yeah, their “rights” to dehumanize Black people.
I grew up in circles, in homes, sitting in the living room with a Robert E. Lee book proudly displayed in the bookcase.
I grew up in public school music class hearing I need to believe in Jesus, and we all need to believe in Jesus. And the conductor invited his favorite, Christian students, including myself, to speak to everyone about the “right way to live.”
I grew up going to the public swimming pool across the street from my house to swim with friends who taunted a young Black boy every time he got near.
I never said anything.
I had never heard anyone stand up to racism.
I didn’t know the words.
I grew up riding the public school bus with a friend who told me white girls and Black boys cannot date because they are not of the same “yolk.” “It’s not what God intended.”
I said nothing except maybe a hedged response like, “I don’t know about that.”
I grew up being sexually assaulted by a man.
I spoke up.
I was told to be quiet.
The words fell silently from my mouth. They gathered quietly in the dirt with the worms, feeding but afraid. Afraid of what might happen or rather what might never happen.
The words steeped around for a long time until they couldn’t breathe anymore. Now they are slowly finding their way out.
I can only imagine the enormity of stories, of pain,
From words never spoken.
Image credit: http://www.northplattepost.com/2013/01/22/teacher-accused-of-duct-taping-students-mouths-shut-must-respond-this-week/