When I was growing up I played with any kids that were willing to play with me. I knew we all looked different and that some of us were boys and girls for a reason but none of that mattered to me. Then one day everything changed. My mother told me that I couldn't go with one of my friends when he came over to play. She said that my father would not approve of me playing with someone who wasn't like me. I didn't understand at first but after being repeatedly told to only play with kids that looked like me I began to notice and pay attention to the differences that we all shared. One day I went to my father and told him that I liked playing with my friends even though they looked different from me. I remember my father coldly saying to me "listen we only mix with our own kind. If the color of their skin doesn't match yours you stay away from them you got it!' I remember being really hurt and crying a lot after he told me that because one of my very best friends in school had a different skin color than me. I liked her. She was always nice to me. But because her skin's color wasn't the same as mine I couldn't play with her anymore. As I got older I got over my disappointment and came to accept and believe my father's views. I accepted that people of different skin colors shouldn't mix. My father's words would always play in my mind whenever I met or was introduced to someone that didn't look like me. Because of how I was raised I went through my adult life with a certain mind set that some people would refer to as being racist. I ignored them because they just didn't understand the simple concept that people of the world had different skin colors for a reason and that reason was for us to identify and keep to our own kind. I admit I experienced some problems but for the majority I was able to live my life by only associating with people of my own kind and I actually preferred it that way. I stayed in the small town I grew up in eventually moving into my parent's home when they died. Being the only child I admit it was hard not having any surviving family members around me but I managed. Eventually my surroundings changed and so did the times. The town that I had spent my whole life in was so different now. The population was getting younger and more colorful. It had gotten so colorful over the last couple of years that my skin color which had been the majority for years was quickly becoming the minority. With so many new and different faces in town I actually became paranoid. Because I had not associated with anyone that wasn't my skin color since I was a young boy I didn't know what to expect of them. My father had always been there to give me wisdom on how to avoid and deal with them but he was gone. He left me alone in this new world. But I was a man, a little older but still a man no less. I would be comforted and keep myself protected by my values and beliefs.
Even when the people moved in next door I avoided them. I ignored them when I saw them outside. I didn't speak to them when they said hi. Hell I never even bothered to make eye contact. The other neighbors embraced them like they were family but I didn't. I couldn't. Doing so would go against everything I was taught as boy. Against everything I had done as an adult. So I stuck to my guns...people of different skin colors didn't mix PERIOD. I did however secretly watch them. I kept track of their movements just to be sure they weren't plotting to get me. The family had been next door for about three years and for the past two Christmas holiday's they had given me a Christmas card. I never opened them but for some odd reason I never threw them away either. So this Christmas Eve would be no different. I heard a knock on my door and when I peered outside I saw the wife from next door who was very pregnant holding another Christmas card. I ignored her knocks and she eventually left leaving the card in the mailbox. I couldn't understand why after all these years of not even speaking to or even acknowledging that her and her family lived next door that they would continue to bring me a Christmas card. I guessed some folks just couldn't take a hint. That night I fell asleep on the couch covered in my favorite blanket. The fireplace was glowing brightly warming the room. The warmth and glow invited me into a deep slumber and I was eager to accept it after a long day. It was the sound of a dog barking that interrupted my sleep. As I tried to ignore the barking I recognized it's familiar sound. It was the neighbor's dog. I remember thinking to myself that it wasn't normal for them to let her out so late. Then suddenly I heard the breaking of glass and banging on the door accompanied by the sounds of a woman screaming and a man yelling. I tried to get off the couch but my body seemed to be paralyzed. Then in an instant I was heaved up off the couch and into the air by a strange man. I tried to resist but my limps just didn't have the strength to fight off my attacker. I couldn't gather my voice to scream for help either. My lungs felt as if they were clogged and the screams in my throat never made it out. My eyes were burning as if they had been doused in acid. I was in a complete panic and I was powerless to react. As quickly as I had been lifted off my couch I was suddenly thrust into the cold air of the night then laid gently on the cold pavement of the street. I tried to focus my old eyes preparing for the assault that I was sure to come from the strange man.
As my vision finally began to clear up I see the face of my attacker. It belongs to the husband of the family next door and he is not alone. Standing beside him hovering over me is his wife. She is speaking to me but the sounds from her mouth don't reach my ears. They both have a look of sadness and worry on their faces. Suddenly I hear the blaring sounds of fire engines and ambulances. The words of the wife become audible. She is asking "Can you hear me?! Are you OK?! Are you hurt?!". Still disoriented and confused I become angry. How dare these people violate me by invading my home? How dare they disrespect me by touching me? Trying to make sense of the situation, I question why after almost three years did they become bold enough to mix with me. Then as quickly as my rage had built up it was torn down and replaced by despair. As various people arrived on the scene watching the spectacle that was taking place my line of sight takes me to the place that is the cause of all the commotion. When my eyes connect my heart breaks. The house I had grown up in was engulfed in a massive blaze. I try to stand to my feet but the husband gently restricts me saying "You're safe now but there is nothing you can do for the house. I'm sorry". I see firefighters in full gear attempting to douse the blaze with water but it is clear the flames have won. As the paramedics put me into the truck and tend to me I overhear them ask my neighbors "does he have any family we can contact?" The wife sadly responds "No. We are all he has now." I begin to cry because she is right. Every thing that I had was in that house. Every one that I had loved was dead. I began to weep uncontrollably. The wife leaves her husband's side and climbs into the truck. She sits down beside my gurney and speaks softly to me as she holds my hand "you can stay with us until you get back on your feet Mr. Wilson." At that moment I experienced the epitome of shame because she knew my name and I hadn't even cared after all these years to know hers. I look at my hand which is completely covered but securely held in between her own and at that moment I see that the color of the skin on my hand isn't visible. It was there in the back of that ambulance that I realized that the color of a person's skin didn't make them invisible. I remembered why I had questioned my father all those years past. There was a time when skin color wasn't an issue to me. It was then, that something deep inside me that had been long buried by discrimination and misunderstanding had finally been uncovered. I finally accepted that despite what I had been taught, despite how I had lived and treated people that the color of a person's skin didn't matter. In that moment of clarity I was thankful that I had been given a rare opportunity to unlearn what I had learned. I had received compassion from people that I had only given contempt to because of the color of their skin. As my childhood home burned to the ground so did my ideas of race relations. The cost of being a racist was to great to pay in this day and age. I was ashamed but grateful at the same time. Ashamed that it took something of this magnitude to awaken my understanding and acceptance. But I was grateful that other people didn't view life with the same bigotry that I had for countless years because had my neighbors did...I would have died a racist.
Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL
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