Journaling on my experience as a mixed media artist. I love trying new techniques. You might find anything from altered art like books, tip ins, ATC's, fat books, watercolors, scrapbooking, stamping, cards, antiques, potpourri. I hope to add items you enjoy for sale. I have been dabbling in art since I received my first box of crayons. I especially love the heritage or vintage look. judy

Location: central, Illinois, United States

Mother of two beautiful women, grandmother of 1 boy and 2 girls, caregiver to my Mother, artist. Our family includes 1 cat, and a land turtle. I have been mama to 2 ferol cat families.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

White is not really a color.

After following the Inauguration today and all the talk on civil rights I remembered something I did as a child. I could not read yet so I had to have been younger than 6. I had very little parental guidance and was over a mile from home. I had to use the restroom so I went in the bus station. There were a lot of doors and some had signs. I asked a porter what the signs said and he said "colored". Mnnnn, what does that mean? "The color of your skin". That was easy as I looked at my arm. I'm white so I go in the colored one. It was really hot out so I got a drink from the "colored" water fountain when I came out too.
The porter had several upset people talking to him and he kept saying "ask her, ask the little girl if I told her to go in there".A very disturbed woman told me the colored porter was being fired and questioned me about our conversation. I repeated my story to several perplexed people and then I cried and told them I didn't want them to fire that nice man for helping me.Then a detective came and showed me his badge and I repeated what had happened to him and told him I was so scared and didn't want to go to jail and I didn't want the man to be fired. Sob, sob, sniff, sniff. The woman wails" what do we do ? She actually used that bathroom and water fountain!" The detective told me I should go home and stated to the crowd the porter was not to be fired. That's how I learned about civil rights and prejudice-not at home, not from my ethnic neighborhood friends but from strangers in a bus station. I went home and never told a soul what had taken place, but I was afraid to go out of the house for a while.


Blogger sherresartmusings said...

Oh my goodness! In California we never had such things. Hard to believe this all happened not that long ago.

1:37 PM  
Blogger Jan said...

Interesting story, I grew up in Detroit when I was a little girl in the 50ties, and I do recall the colored going to the back of the bus, but I was never brought up to these prejudices (thank god)I didn't think of anyone being any different from myself. What a story.

4:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What a powerful story, thanks for sharing it with the world. Can you believe how far we've come? I'm so thrilled with our new president :-)

5:06 PM  

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