Yesterday I posted a new blog titled "My Testimony Of Growing Up
In The South In The 1940S/50S!" In a recent blog I
mentioned that even though I may come to my computer with an
idea for a new blog all thought out and ready to write - often
God, or a Friend whom God has chosen, will put that plan on the
back burner and send me off in a new direction. Well, that
happened today.
A long time Friend and Christian sister, Norma, responded to my Friends Ministry eNewsletter today sharing her childhood experiences with racial bias. Norma wrote:
Norma's childhood experiences brings several bittersweet memories. As a young man in the Air Force stationed at Lowry AFB in Denver, I met and married a beautiful Hispanic lady, Betty. She had three young daughters - 4, 3, and 18 months old. And I could not have loved any child any more than I loved, and still love, those three adorable little girls. They are all grandmothers now.
After we were married, I was sent to Osan, Korea, for a year. When I came home to Denver with a 30 day leave, we traveled to Alabama so that everyone could meet my family. Mom came to visit us in Denver before I left for Korea, but the rest of my family had not met them yet. During the weeks we were in Alabama, a new movie, Giant, had just been released starring Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean.
While the story was about oil in Texas and the men it made wealthy - the main undercurrent in the movie was racial prejudice - against all Hispanics. In the movie, James Dean was the protagonist who hated all Mexicans - while Rock Hudson and Elizabeth had a grandchild which was mixed Caucasian and Mexican.
Betty and I went to see the movie in my local hometown Shoals theater. After the movie, we were standing outside when a local man walked up, smiling, and said to me, "Better not let James Dean see her." Before I could decide if he was just being friendly or was being nasty, he had walked away. At that time in Alabama there were few, in any, Hispanic people - and sadly, no Mexican food restaurants yet. So neither of us were bothered by his comment.
After my leave, I traveled to my next station at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas. I found a nice two bedroom apartment for my family and started getting it ready for their arrival. Our new home was to be at 808 Baylor Street, which was about a mile west of downtown Austin. On our block were a row of large older homes which had been converted to apartments. Downstairs was one large apartment and upstairs was divided into two separate apartments. Since I was only an Air Force enlisted man on a limited budget, our apartment was one of the less expensive upstairs units.
In the row of converted old homes, all the larger downstairs apartments were occupied by older families. Our downstairs apartment was home to a Mr. & Mrs. Potts and their teenage daughter. All the upstairs apartments were occupied by younger Air Force families, college students, and in our building, a University of Texas-Austin professor from Egypt, Fouad Tawfik, who was also working on his Ph.d. at the university.
For several weeks I was working in my spare time getting my apartment ready for my family, and the Potts family below could not have been friendlier. After all, I was a Southern boy who still had my Alabama accent, y'all. So we were immediate friends. With my family arriving on Saturday and, not having a car, I would have to take a taxi to the train station. Mr. Potts would have none of that for a good Southern boy. He volunteered to drive me to pick up my family.
My wife, Betty, and all three of my girls were more fair skinned, seemingly more Spanish looking. But the Saturday they arrived was in August - and, besides being Mexican, they stepped off the train with a good suntan. I thought old man Potts was going to have a heart attack on the spot. He drove us home and was cordial - but he was far from friendly. Later I learned that he had told his teenage daughter that she could not babysit with those Mexican kids.
Even though I came from the South, Alabama, where I knew there was racial discrimination during those years - I had no idea that the prejudice in Texas against Mexicans, and all Hispanics, was even greater than the black and white schism in the rest of the South.
In our two buildings, the upstairs apartments next door was home to a couple from San Jose, California, Rick & Jeri, who were there for Rick to study Psychiatry at the university - and n the same building a young Air Force couple, Larry & Barbara. In our building we had Fouad Tawfik, professor and Ph.d. candidate from Egypt and his roommate, a university student from Egypt. No prejudice whatsoever in the upstairs units.
In the downstairs units we had the Potts and in the next door building another older couple - and both downstairs apartments reeked with racial hatred. Not for blacks, but for any flavor of Hispanic.
What Betty never told me until we were out of the Air Force and living in California - was that old man Potts, who hated Mexicans, came knocking on our door when I was at work. But he picked on the wrong Mexican lady. She would not tell me when we were still living in Austin, for she did not want to get me in trouble for slugging an old man - which most certainly would have happened.
I have often had people say to me, "Bill, how can you understand racial prejudice? You are white, Caucasian, and no one has ever mistreated you over your skin color."
That is true. But when people you love are the target of such racial hatred, that is even worse. I would much rather have the hatred aimed at me - instead of my wife and children. Especially when they were truly beautiful people. So, yes, I truly do know the hurt that comes from racial prejudice, I know it very personally.
Fast forward to the late 1960s and I was living in Southern California. My friend, Patricia, and I were close friends with a lady from India, Cynthia Kalakadina, who worked with Pat at the TWA Regional Reservation Offices in downtown Los Angeles. Cynthia and her mother were from India - but her step-father was a Caucasian executive who worked for TWA. In the early 1950s, when Cynthia was a young girl, they spent a Sunday afternoon driving around Los Angeles.
In San Pedro, they stopped for lunch at a small cafe. The owner refused to serve them, telling them, "I don't serve N- - - - - s here!" Cynthia's step-father told him, "My wife and daughter are from India." The owner replied, "I don't care where they are from, to me they are still N- - - - - s!"
That scene could have been taken directly from the movie Giant. In the movie Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor are a wealthy oil family. They are traveling by car from an oil convention - and in the car with them was their Mexican daughter-in-law and their granddaughter. Just like in Cynthia's case, the family stopped at a small cafe for lunch and the owner came over telling Rock Hudson, "We don't serve Mexicans in here!"
Rock Hudson told him, "This is my family and you will serve them." To make a long story a wee bit shorter - Rock Hudson and this very big Redneck had a rollicking good fight all over the cafe. But, alas, the bad guy won. That does happen sometimes.
As I have long said, racial prejudice is a learned trait. It is not in our DNA. No one is born to hate, hatred of any flavor must be taught. I pray for the day when we are all color blind, just as God is color blind. Let us look into the heart and soul of those we meet - not at their skin color, accent, or culture. Keep in mind that we are just as foreign to them as they are to us.
One last story and I will shut up. In the mid-1990s I worked for a Pakistani own computer company, CMS Enhancements, in Orange County, California. The company had about 300 employees - and in that group of 300 you could find every flavor of Eastern, Middle Eastern, Asian, and a few of we pale skinned Caucasians. One day I was walking down the hallway toward Shipping & Receiving when another tall, blonde Caucasian man, carrying a box, walked past me coming from that department. When I walked into Shipping & Receiving, a Chinese man ran up to me and excitedly demanded, "Where the box? Where the box?"
At first I was confused, but then I remembered the man I had passed in the hallway - a tall, blonde Caucasian carrying a box. I smiled and said to the Chinese man, "What's the matter? Do we all look the same to you?" I wasn't being facetious. It is obvious to me that to a person from another race and culture - all Caucasians of similar build and coloring probably do look the same to him.
Okay, one last story - for real. In 1956-57 I was stationed in the Air Force at Osan Air Base in Korea. Twice we went on 2-month TDY (Temporary Duty) to a Nationalist Chinese Air Base at Tainan, Formosa (Taiwan). On this base, the Chinese soldiers stood guard duty around the flight line and our planes. One day a Chinese soldier came to me, with a rifle over his shoulder and a Chinese/English dictionary in his hands. "Hey, GI, what this word?" "That word is IF." "What it mean?" DUH! How could I explain the meaning of "IF" to a Chinese man just learning English?
Yes, those things sometimes do make it hard to communicate. But if we truly want to have fellowship with our fellowman - we can get past those small hurdles. After all, there is really only one race, the Human Race - and God loves us all.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
A long time Friend and Christian sister, Norma, responded to my Friends Ministry eNewsletter today sharing her childhood experiences with racial bias. Norma wrote:
Another great article writing about your life’s experiences! Your writing is very descriptive. You brought back 40/50’s memories from 1948. My family and I were not allowed into a swimming pool because we were Mexicans. Now we are not very dark, light almost white skinned - but because of our name, nope! This was in Phoenix Arizona in either 48/49. I was 10 years old
Norma's childhood experiences brings several bittersweet memories. As a young man in the Air Force stationed at Lowry AFB in Denver, I met and married a beautiful Hispanic lady, Betty. She had three young daughters - 4, 3, and 18 months old. And I could not have loved any child any more than I loved, and still love, those three adorable little girls. They are all grandmothers now.
After we were married, I was sent to Osan, Korea, for a year. When I came home to Denver with a 30 day leave, we traveled to Alabama so that everyone could meet my family. Mom came to visit us in Denver before I left for Korea, but the rest of my family had not met them yet. During the weeks we were in Alabama, a new movie, Giant, had just been released starring Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean.
While the story was about oil in Texas and the men it made wealthy - the main undercurrent in the movie was racial prejudice - against all Hispanics. In the movie, James Dean was the protagonist who hated all Mexicans - while Rock Hudson and Elizabeth had a grandchild which was mixed Caucasian and Mexican.
Betty and I went to see the movie in my local hometown Shoals theater. After the movie, we were standing outside when a local man walked up, smiling, and said to me, "Better not let James Dean see her." Before I could decide if he was just being friendly or was being nasty, he had walked away. At that time in Alabama there were few, in any, Hispanic people - and sadly, no Mexican food restaurants yet. So neither of us were bothered by his comment.
After my leave, I traveled to my next station at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas. I found a nice two bedroom apartment for my family and started getting it ready for their arrival. Our new home was to be at 808 Baylor Street, which was about a mile west of downtown Austin. On our block were a row of large older homes which had been converted to apartments. Downstairs was one large apartment and upstairs was divided into two separate apartments. Since I was only an Air Force enlisted man on a limited budget, our apartment was one of the less expensive upstairs units.
In the row of converted old homes, all the larger downstairs apartments were occupied by older families. Our downstairs apartment was home to a Mr. & Mrs. Potts and their teenage daughter. All the upstairs apartments were occupied by younger Air Force families, college students, and in our building, a University of Texas-Austin professor from Egypt, Fouad Tawfik, who was also working on his Ph.d. at the university.
For several weeks I was working in my spare time getting my apartment ready for my family, and the Potts family below could not have been friendlier. After all, I was a Southern boy who still had my Alabama accent, y'all. So we were immediate friends. With my family arriving on Saturday and, not having a car, I would have to take a taxi to the train station. Mr. Potts would have none of that for a good Southern boy. He volunteered to drive me to pick up my family.
My wife, Betty, and all three of my girls were more fair skinned, seemingly more Spanish looking. But the Saturday they arrived was in August - and, besides being Mexican, they stepped off the train with a good suntan. I thought old man Potts was going to have a heart attack on the spot. He drove us home and was cordial - but he was far from friendly. Later I learned that he had told his teenage daughter that she could not babysit with those Mexican kids.
Even though I came from the South, Alabama, where I knew there was racial discrimination during those years - I had no idea that the prejudice in Texas against Mexicans, and all Hispanics, was even greater than the black and white schism in the rest of the South.
In our two buildings, the upstairs apartments next door was home to a couple from San Jose, California, Rick & Jeri, who were there for Rick to study Psychiatry at the university - and n the same building a young Air Force couple, Larry & Barbara. In our building we had Fouad Tawfik, professor and Ph.d. candidate from Egypt and his roommate, a university student from Egypt. No prejudice whatsoever in the upstairs units.
In the downstairs units we had the Potts and in the next door building another older couple - and both downstairs apartments reeked with racial hatred. Not for blacks, but for any flavor of Hispanic.
What Betty never told me until we were out of the Air Force and living in California - was that old man Potts, who hated Mexicans, came knocking on our door when I was at work. But he picked on the wrong Mexican lady. She would not tell me when we were still living in Austin, for she did not want to get me in trouble for slugging an old man - which most certainly would have happened.
I have often had people say to me, "Bill, how can you understand racial prejudice? You are white, Caucasian, and no one has ever mistreated you over your skin color."
That is true. But when people you love are the target of such racial hatred, that is even worse. I would much rather have the hatred aimed at me - instead of my wife and children. Especially when they were truly beautiful people. So, yes, I truly do know the hurt that comes from racial prejudice, I know it very personally.
Fast forward to the late 1960s and I was living in Southern California. My friend, Patricia, and I were close friends with a lady from India, Cynthia Kalakadina, who worked with Pat at the TWA Regional Reservation Offices in downtown Los Angeles. Cynthia and her mother were from India - but her step-father was a Caucasian executive who worked for TWA. In the early 1950s, when Cynthia was a young girl, they spent a Sunday afternoon driving around Los Angeles.
In San Pedro, they stopped for lunch at a small cafe. The owner refused to serve them, telling them, "I don't serve N- - - - - s here!" Cynthia's step-father told him, "My wife and daughter are from India." The owner replied, "I don't care where they are from, to me they are still N- - - - - s!"
That scene could have been taken directly from the movie Giant. In the movie Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor are a wealthy oil family. They are traveling by car from an oil convention - and in the car with them was their Mexican daughter-in-law and their granddaughter. Just like in Cynthia's case, the family stopped at a small cafe for lunch and the owner came over telling Rock Hudson, "We don't serve Mexicans in here!"
Rock Hudson told him, "This is my family and you will serve them." To make a long story a wee bit shorter - Rock Hudson and this very big Redneck had a rollicking good fight all over the cafe. But, alas, the bad guy won. That does happen sometimes.
As I have long said, racial prejudice is a learned trait. It is not in our DNA. No one is born to hate, hatred of any flavor must be taught. I pray for the day when we are all color blind, just as God is color blind. Let us look into the heart and soul of those we meet - not at their skin color, accent, or culture. Keep in mind that we are just as foreign to them as they are to us.
One last story and I will shut up. In the mid-1990s I worked for a Pakistani own computer company, CMS Enhancements, in Orange County, California. The company had about 300 employees - and in that group of 300 you could find every flavor of Eastern, Middle Eastern, Asian, and a few of we pale skinned Caucasians. One day I was walking down the hallway toward Shipping & Receiving when another tall, blonde Caucasian man, carrying a box, walked past me coming from that department. When I walked into Shipping & Receiving, a Chinese man ran up to me and excitedly demanded, "Where the box? Where the box?"
At first I was confused, but then I remembered the man I had passed in the hallway - a tall, blonde Caucasian carrying a box. I smiled and said to the Chinese man, "What's the matter? Do we all look the same to you?" I wasn't being facetious. It is obvious to me that to a person from another race and culture - all Caucasians of similar build and coloring probably do look the same to him.
Okay, one last story - for real. In 1956-57 I was stationed in the Air Force at Osan Air Base in Korea. Twice we went on 2-month TDY (Temporary Duty) to a Nationalist Chinese Air Base at Tainan, Formosa (Taiwan). On this base, the Chinese soldiers stood guard duty around the flight line and our planes. One day a Chinese soldier came to me, with a rifle over his shoulder and a Chinese/English dictionary in his hands. "Hey, GI, what this word?" "That word is IF." "What it mean?" DUH! How could I explain the meaning of "IF" to a Chinese man just learning English?
Yes, those things sometimes do make it hard to communicate. But if we truly want to have fellowship with our fellowman - we can get past those small hurdles. After all, there is really only one race, the Human Race - and God loves us all.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
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