the awakening

Realizing I am a blend of all I have seen and experienced, I draw a fair portion of my inner balance from my ability to realize things are meant to change…hopefully for the better…although I know that’s not always the case. I look back at my Grandmother and know she had a very hard life…and my own Mother didn’t have it so easy either. They were a family who moved where the work was, often employed in cotton fields and shipyards along the coast. My Mother attributes her many wrinkles to her days spent in the heat of the sun, working alongside the adults. She has a darker complexion than I do. My Mother was raised in an environment of prejudice against dark-skinned people and she detested her own features that she believed to be very similar to African-Americans. Her curly hair and sun-ripened skin were the very things she associated with being unattractive, because that is what she was taught. Growing up I was always embarrassed that there were such prejudices in my family. I remember bringing a friend home from school one day and because she had darker skin my mother made us play outside and then only for a few minutes before she collected me because we had “errands” to run. In the car I received the lecture of a lifetime about not mixing with “those kind of people.” My heart broke, but not for being denied a friendship, but that my own mother could be so ignorant and blind. I never could understand it. To me the “N” word was every bit as offensive as the “F” word. I just never could harbor such hate for anything, let alone another human being. Then about 15 years ago or so, God delivered an older African-American couple to the house next door to my parents. I still have visions of my mom peeking out the window saying she was going to have to sell her home.
I would roll my eyes and tell her she was being ridiculous. Then one day the neighbor lady broke the ice and spoke to my mom and each day after, my mom became more curious and allowed herself to have conversations, which developed into tea on the porch, and then talk of the bible, and then before she realized it my mom found one of the sweetest friendships she had ever known. Looking back she is ashamed of her behavior even though it was a result of the environment she was raised in, she still had a choice to think differently and passed it by. Elma, her neighbor, is the most authentic, sweet-natured soul I have ever met and I don’t know if she knows exactly what she accomplished, but I am so grateful to her and to my Mother for allowing her eyes to be opened. So, yes it is true we are a product of our experiences, but at some point we have to take a good long look at the temperature of our hearts and make sure our convictions are worthy of the image we perceive of ourselves.