Quite a poignant and fascinating piece; I was spellbound. It reminded and brought back home to me a personal story I’d not thought about in a long time. I hope you don’t mind if I expound. I’ll try to be brief and promise I’m going somewhere with this.
When I was in the 6th grade, busing was in full force in Charlotte, NC. We white kids would board the bus first. We’d take up half the seats and then the bus would go to a black neighborhood to pick up the other half of the riders. Many white kids would save seats for their black friends and most of us would laugh and talk all the way to school. Our bus driver was a young black man, he treated us all well, greeted us by name, was funny and all of us, to the very last one, loved him. All the world and everything in it appeared perfectly fine and dandy to me, a 10 year old white kid, riding that school bus.
At the end of the year, the school had the kids vote on silly things such as the most likely to succeed, most popular etc… and that’s when I got the idea. It was a given to everyone that Chris C, a white boy prone to Izod shirts, slacks and loafers, would win most popular student. We less popular kids, both black and white, who didn’t wear Izod shirts, slacks and loafers didn’t care much for Chris C. What if I could get all the black kids and my few white friends to vote in bloc for me, an unpopular white boy, to be most popular? If I won, it would show and shock all those izod, loafer wearing snobs! It would be a victory for all of us less popular kids, both black and white.
Well… it worked. When all the winners were announced in the auditorium and my name was called as most popular, all the black kids cheered and all the popular white kids sat on their hands. Everyone knew what the black kids an I had conspired to do and they didn’t like it one bit.
Many years later it occurred to me to ask myself why those black kids I thought I was such tight friends with didn’t say to me, “hey man, what about us? Why do you get to be the one? If you and your white friends and all us black kids - and we have the numbers - voted for one of us instead of you, we could win and stick it those rich, white snobs same as you.” The day I asked myself that question was the day I realized the insidious, inculcated racism many children including myself, grow up with even though we are unaware and have no inkling of it. The racism that lurks underneath white society, unheard and unrealized by many yet there all the while. Now we know it as white privilege. I just assumed that the natural state of things would dictate that I be the nominee and not one of the black kids.
Back then we patted ourselves on the back for the non racists we were and called it just everyone having a good time on the bus… until a black kid got a big idea like mine.
I was privileged almost beyond measure and had no idea of it. I thought neither I nor any of the kids on that bus had a racist bone in our bodies. That it never occurred to me that those black kids could have accomplished what I did with a little help from a few white kids proves the point of inculcated racism and privilege.
What was much more insidious and tragic, however, was that it didn’t occur to those young black kids either. They’d already learned, subconsciously and most likely without even realizing it, to step aside for the white kid and let him win.
I like to think that today, those imbued assumptions of who’s to be first and who’s to be last are long gone and no more. I’d like to think that all people be judged by their character and not the color of their skin. I’d like to think those 6th grade black classmates of mine would no longer assume to let the white kid go first and especially their children and grandchildren would not assume such a thing. I’d like to think the world is a better, more thoughtful and reflective place than it was in 1979, or 11 years after the death of a great American. I’d like to think…
Gosh, I wish I could have shaken his hand too, Andrew. Just for a moment. Whether he remembered me or not.
The honesty and self-awareness in your response speaks volumes. Thanks for sharing this incident from your childhood and for reflecting on its implications years later.
As I read your response, the first thing that occurred to me was the very thing it took years for you to realize. Why not one of the Black kids?
What I especially value in your contribution to this discussion is what you said about how children of all races are negatively influenced by the existence of what neuropsychologist Dr. Andrew P. Brown calls Racial Hierarchy.
This is why it’s important to be self-aware and on the lookout for tripwires like systemic racism, white privilege, and unconscious bias.
Thanks so much for reading my story and bringing your own meaningful experience to the conversation. I really appreciate it.
Superb piece of personal history with insights many of us can relate to. Your decision to become student body president was not a waste of time however. Manhattan became a better place because you did!
Thanks for reading and weighing in. Glad you found it relatable. When I ran for student body president, it did seem very important that I do so. It’s heartening to know that it somehow made a difference. Thanks, as always, for your encouragement and support.
Truly an illustration of the painful disillusionment of growing up, being betrayed by someone you thought you trusted ( in this case through a blatant case of racism), meeting someone who was deeply inspiring and also being touched by kindness and respect. Life is complex.
Thank you for reading and commenting. Life is indeed complex. I’m grateful to have a chance to come to terms with my experience through the process of writing. It’s a very helpful and healing thing to do. Good to hear from you.
Thank you for exhibiting the courage to share the perfidy poured on you at the hands of a failed archetype. The story of your perseverance in the face of inequality is a testament to hope. Great article!
“A failed archetype”—that’s exactly what it was. Thanks for reading and adding that additional perspective to what I’ve written. I’m really glad to receive your feedback. It’s good to know you liked it!
I am particularly struck by how Archbishop Hallinan responded: “As archbishop, I can’t let them do that. So, you see, it’s up to you to be the true Christians in this situation. You must make the sacrifice and take up the cross just as Jesus did.”
First, the archbishop prevented white Catholics from deciding to be “ true Christians.” Did this northerner sense the civil war was not really over in the hearts of white citizens in the city that had been burned to the ground by a northern general? Second, it seems the archbishop in placing the sacrifice on current and future Drexelites to be the true Christians” he lessened the status of white Catholics to second class Christians. (Could there be such a class.) Third, the archbishop took the cross from white Catholics and denied them the opportunity to take up the cross as Jesus did. As archbishop he says he couldn’t let them take up that cross. How interesting.
Thanks so much for this fresh perspective. I’ve never thought of it in this way. But I have wondered whether there had been some kind of survey of white Catholics before the axe fell.
After reading what Mikels said here, I started wondering why Atlanta’s Archbishop didn’t take a hard stand against any whites who might refuse to comply with an order to integrate Drexel instead of closing it.
What occurs to me is that Atlanta didn’t have that luxury because Catholicism was fairly new in this part of the South. I’m guessing he didn’t want to risk losing any of the flock by threatening excommunication.
Nevertheless, your points are fascinating. I wonder how many white Catholics would have been willing to act as “true Christians” if given the chance.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read and share these intriguing insights! Much appreciated.
Thank you for sharing this very personal story with us. Three pivotal events occurring around the same time in your young life, all related to your crisis of faith. The way you layered your father’s death, meeting Dr. King, and the closing of Drexel HS (and the reason it closed) is brilliant! I listened to MLK’s ‘But If Not’ sermon (thanks for the link) and am so glad I did. I think this is such an important message for all of us struggling to do the right thing for the right reason in this life.
Another beautiful part of your story is your realization that all white Catholics weren’t (and aren’t) racist- when you remembered the kindness shown by your white (Catholic) dorm mates. Let all people be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character just as Dr. King wanted for his four little children.
This was one of those stories that basically wrote itself when I began to reflect on everything that happened during that time. I'm really glad it resonated with you. It's heartening to know that you took time to drill into the links in order to connect with Dr. King's actual words. His "But If Not" sermon really moves me every time I hear it. I'm glad it's still online so I could share it here. Thank you so much for reading today's piece and taking the time to share such kind and encouraging thoughts.
Veteran broadcast journalist Felicia Jeter, the first Black female TV news reporter in Atlanta, was the first Black anchorwoman in Los Angeles and Houston and one the nation's very first African American network news anchorwomen.
During her career, she worked as an anchor and correspondent for CBS, NBC and CNN, was a nationally syndicated radio host, producer, writer, and editor. Jeter, who heads Felicia Jeter and Associates and Jetcom Enterprises, is also executive producer of various event and media projects, a facilitator, project manager, event host, entrepreneur and occasional actor. She is a Founder of the Atlanta Association of Black Journalists.
This is when I wish I was reading your words in book form. I'd have scribbled notes and underlines throughout. The layers, the moments of not understanding, the not understanding building (more layers), from that, wisdom, growing. I found it painful to lose my faith, and it's taken forty years almost to regain. I suspect I'll never become part of any church. Mikels notes missing certainty. I don't feel that 'certainty' yet. And hope I never do. Maybe it's that certainty that breeds the self-righteous misery that sent me running... to ponder here! That moment of seeing the "ordinary"... key. To see that in Dr. King was surely a gift! And a calling too. Your writing would be a part of that call--thank you for this, Andrew.
Thank you, Alison. How you have time to read and comment on my story while writing your own books and teaching a creative writing course on Substack is mind-boggling. What you've said here is very humbling. You, perhaps better than most, know what it means to hear that another person has experienced similar feelings to those expressed in a given piece. It's so good to know we are not alone in our searching. Thank you for your kind words and the encouragement you have always shown me. I appreciate it more than words can say.
Andrew. Let me start by apologizing for not noting often enough just how good you are at your craft. If not for this piece, I would have spent this morning, the one before MLK day, listening to endless commentary on pending football games rather than considering the importance of MLK's life lived (and our own). Your reflections and the embedded links in your essays transform them from 20 minute reads to hours of reading/listening/thinking/confirming what we should be about. Thanks so much. So maybe I can join you in "choosing my confessions". Today was the first time I dug into the "But If I Do" speech and it hit home. I remembered the names Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego but had misplaced their message. "If" faith and 'though' faith are sometimes replaced with "little or no" faith ... but the behavior that provides meaning and satisfaction remains the same: we have been called to do what is right regardless. What a powerful piece! Thanks so much for helping me prepare to have a better tomorrow. Biz
Dr. King's "But If Not" sermon blows me away every time, Biz.
I'm so glad to know that you drilled into the links to hear Dr. King speak for himself in words not often played in the media. I don't think he'd mind that folks are watching football during this holiday weekend.
Your kind words mean a lot to me. I'm really glad to know you take the time to read my stories and comment when you can. Thank you very much.
I grew up in Indianapolis. When Cardinal Ritter integrated the parochial schools in 1938, he got the predictable blowback. His response: get over it or I'll excommunicate you. That was years before I went through the system in the 50s, years before I was even born. My experience was that integrated or not, you didn't see much diversity until high school, because elementary schools were parish-based, and the neighborhoods in Indy at that time were totally segregated. By the Brown ruling, Ritter was long gone, off to St. Louis to continue his work. I didn't know much of this when I was in those schools. I can confirm one thing: white Catholics were as racist as everyone else, even though we had been given the spiritual tools to overcome this. I am ashamed to say I was as bad as anyone else, at least until the civil rights movement and Dr. King made us face reality and choose which side we were on. My heart went out to those struggling souls, and I went one way, but many of my friends went the other and I lost them. I also lost my faith somewhere along that road. Never got it back, although I have sometimes missed its certainty since then. Thank you for this post.
Thank you for this response. It’s good to have your insider’s perspective on what happened among white Catholics.
My former schoolmates who were transferred to white high schools in Atlanta still feel hurt and angry about the racism they experienced in those places.
We all move on of course and must learn to grow, or else wither and die before death takes us. And yet, I am always surprised at how fresh the old wounds feel when I find myself writing about the painful past.
Thanks again for taking the time to read my essay and for sharing your thoughts. I really appreciate it.
Quite a poignant and fascinating piece; I was spellbound. It reminded and brought back home to me a personal story I’d not thought about in a long time. I hope you don’t mind if I expound. I’ll try to be brief and promise I’m going somewhere with this.
When I was in the 6th grade, busing was in full force in Charlotte, NC. We white kids would board the bus first. We’d take up half the seats and then the bus would go to a black neighborhood to pick up the other half of the riders. Many white kids would save seats for their black friends and most of us would laugh and talk all the way to school. Our bus driver was a young black man, he treated us all well, greeted us by name, was funny and all of us, to the very last one, loved him. All the world and everything in it appeared perfectly fine and dandy to me, a 10 year old white kid, riding that school bus.
At the end of the year, the school had the kids vote on silly things such as the most likely to succeed, most popular etc… and that’s when I got the idea. It was a given to everyone that Chris C, a white boy prone to Izod shirts, slacks and loafers, would win most popular student. We less popular kids, both black and white, who didn’t wear Izod shirts, slacks and loafers didn’t care much for Chris C. What if I could get all the black kids and my few white friends to vote in bloc for me, an unpopular white boy, to be most popular? If I won, it would show and shock all those izod, loafer wearing snobs! It would be a victory for all of us less popular kids, both black and white.
Well… it worked. When all the winners were announced in the auditorium and my name was called as most popular, all the black kids cheered and all the popular white kids sat on their hands. Everyone knew what the black kids an I had conspired to do and they didn’t like it one bit.
Many years later it occurred to me to ask myself why those black kids I thought I was such tight friends with didn’t say to me, “hey man, what about us? Why do you get to be the one? If you and your white friends and all us black kids - and we have the numbers - voted for one of us instead of you, we could win and stick it those rich, white snobs same as you.” The day I asked myself that question was the day I realized the insidious, inculcated racism many children including myself, grow up with even though we are unaware and have no inkling of it. The racism that lurks underneath white society, unheard and unrealized by many yet there all the while. Now we know it as white privilege. I just assumed that the natural state of things would dictate that I be the nominee and not one of the black kids.
Back then we patted ourselves on the back for the non racists we were and called it just everyone having a good time on the bus… until a black kid got a big idea like mine.
I was privileged almost beyond measure and had no idea of it. I thought neither I nor any of the kids on that bus had a racist bone in our bodies. That it never occurred to me that those black kids could have accomplished what I did with a little help from a few white kids proves the point of inculcated racism and privilege.
What was much more insidious and tragic, however, was that it didn’t occur to those young black kids either. They’d already learned, subconsciously and most likely without even realizing it, to step aside for the white kid and let him win.
I like to think that today, those imbued assumptions of who’s to be first and who’s to be last are long gone and no more. I’d like to think that all people be judged by their character and not the color of their skin. I’d like to think those 6th grade black classmates of mine would no longer assume to let the white kid go first and especially their children and grandchildren would not assume such a thing. I’d like to think the world is a better, more thoughtful and reflective place than it was in 1979, or 11 years after the death of a great American. I’d like to think…
Gosh, I wish I could have shaken his hand too, Andrew. Just for a moment. Whether he remembered me or not.
The honesty and self-awareness in your response speaks volumes. Thanks for sharing this incident from your childhood and for reflecting on its implications years later.
As I read your response, the first thing that occurred to me was the very thing it took years for you to realize. Why not one of the Black kids?
What I especially value in your contribution to this discussion is what you said about how children of all races are negatively influenced by the existence of what neuropsychologist Dr. Andrew P. Brown calls Racial Hierarchy.
This is why it’s important to be self-aware and on the lookout for tripwires like systemic racism, white privilege, and unconscious bias.
Thanks so much for reading my story and bringing your own meaningful experience to the conversation. I really appreciate it.
Superb piece of personal history with insights many of us can relate to. Your decision to become student body president was not a waste of time however. Manhattan became a better place because you did!
Thanks for reading and weighing in. Glad you found it relatable. When I ran for student body president, it did seem very important that I do so. It’s heartening to know that it somehow made a difference. Thanks, as always, for your encouragement and support.
Truly an illustration of the painful disillusionment of growing up, being betrayed by someone you thought you trusted ( in this case through a blatant case of racism), meeting someone who was deeply inspiring and also being touched by kindness and respect. Life is complex.
Thank you for reading and commenting. Life is indeed complex. I’m grateful to have a chance to come to terms with my experience through the process of writing. It’s a very helpful and healing thing to do. Good to hear from you.
Thank you for exhibiting the courage to share the perfidy poured on you at the hands of a failed archetype. The story of your perseverance in the face of inequality is a testament to hope. Great article!
“A failed archetype”—that’s exactly what it was. Thanks for reading and adding that additional perspective to what I’ve written. I’m really glad to receive your feedback. It’s good to know you liked it!
I am particularly struck by how Archbishop Hallinan responded: “As archbishop, I can’t let them do that. So, you see, it’s up to you to be the true Christians in this situation. You must make the sacrifice and take up the cross just as Jesus did.”
First, the archbishop prevented white Catholics from deciding to be “ true Christians.” Did this northerner sense the civil war was not really over in the hearts of white citizens in the city that had been burned to the ground by a northern general? Second, it seems the archbishop in placing the sacrifice on current and future Drexelites to be the true Christians” he lessened the status of white Catholics to second class Christians. (Could there be such a class.) Third, the archbishop took the cross from white Catholics and denied them the opportunity to take up the cross as Jesus did. As archbishop he says he couldn’t let them take up that cross. How interesting.
Thank you Andrew for sharing.
From a would have been Drexelite.
Thanks so much for this fresh perspective. I’ve never thought of it in this way. But I have wondered whether there had been some kind of survey of white Catholics before the axe fell.
After reading what Mikels said here, I started wondering why Atlanta’s Archbishop didn’t take a hard stand against any whites who might refuse to comply with an order to integrate Drexel instead of closing it.
What occurs to me is that Atlanta didn’t have that luxury because Catholicism was fairly new in this part of the South. I’m guessing he didn’t want to risk losing any of the flock by threatening excommunication.
Nevertheless, your points are fascinating. I wonder how many white Catholics would have been willing to act as “true Christians” if given the chance.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read and share these intriguing insights! Much appreciated.
Thank you for sharing this very personal story with us. Three pivotal events occurring around the same time in your young life, all related to your crisis of faith. The way you layered your father’s death, meeting Dr. King, and the closing of Drexel HS (and the reason it closed) is brilliant! I listened to MLK’s ‘But If Not’ sermon (thanks for the link) and am so glad I did. I think this is such an important message for all of us struggling to do the right thing for the right reason in this life.
Another beautiful part of your story is your realization that all white Catholics weren’t (and aren’t) racist- when you remembered the kindness shown by your white (Catholic) dorm mates. Let all people be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character just as Dr. King wanted for his four little children.
This was one of those stories that basically wrote itself when I began to reflect on everything that happened during that time. I'm really glad it resonated with you. It's heartening to know that you took time to drill into the links in order to connect with Dr. King's actual words. His "But If Not" sermon really moves me every time I hear it. I'm glad it's still online so I could share it here. Thank you so much for reading today's piece and taking the time to share such kind and encouraging thoughts.
Veteran broadcast journalist Felicia Jeter, the first Black female TV news reporter in Atlanta, was the first Black anchorwoman in Los Angeles and Houston and one the nation's very first African American network news anchorwomen.
During her career, she worked as an anchor and correspondent for CBS, NBC and CNN, was a nationally syndicated radio host, producer, writer, and editor. Jeter, who heads Felicia Jeter and Associates and Jetcom Enterprises, is also executive producer of various event and media projects, a facilitator, project manager, event host, entrepreneur and occasional actor. She is a Founder of the Atlanta Association of Black Journalists.
This is when I wish I was reading your words in book form. I'd have scribbled notes and underlines throughout. The layers, the moments of not understanding, the not understanding building (more layers), from that, wisdom, growing. I found it painful to lose my faith, and it's taken forty years almost to regain. I suspect I'll never become part of any church. Mikels notes missing certainty. I don't feel that 'certainty' yet. And hope I never do. Maybe it's that certainty that breeds the self-righteous misery that sent me running... to ponder here! That moment of seeing the "ordinary"... key. To see that in Dr. King was surely a gift! And a calling too. Your writing would be a part of that call--thank you for this, Andrew.
Thank you, Alison. How you have time to read and comment on my story while writing your own books and teaching a creative writing course on Substack is mind-boggling. What you've said here is very humbling. You, perhaps better than most, know what it means to hear that another person has experienced similar feelings to those expressed in a given piece. It's so good to know we are not alone in our searching. Thank you for your kind words and the encouragement you have always shown me. I appreciate it more than words can say.
Andrew. Let me start by apologizing for not noting often enough just how good you are at your craft. If not for this piece, I would have spent this morning, the one before MLK day, listening to endless commentary on pending football games rather than considering the importance of MLK's life lived (and our own). Your reflections and the embedded links in your essays transform them from 20 minute reads to hours of reading/listening/thinking/confirming what we should be about. Thanks so much. So maybe I can join you in "choosing my confessions". Today was the first time I dug into the "But If I Do" speech and it hit home. I remembered the names Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego but had misplaced their message. "If" faith and 'though' faith are sometimes replaced with "little or no" faith ... but the behavior that provides meaning and satisfaction remains the same: we have been called to do what is right regardless. What a powerful piece! Thanks so much for helping me prepare to have a better tomorrow. Biz
Dr. King's "But If Not" sermon blows me away every time, Biz.
I'm so glad to know that you drilled into the links to hear Dr. King speak for himself in words not often played in the media. I don't think he'd mind that folks are watching football during this holiday weekend.
Your kind words mean a lot to me. I'm really glad to know you take the time to read my stories and comment when you can. Thank you very much.
I grew up in Indianapolis. When Cardinal Ritter integrated the parochial schools in 1938, he got the predictable blowback. His response: get over it or I'll excommunicate you. That was years before I went through the system in the 50s, years before I was even born. My experience was that integrated or not, you didn't see much diversity until high school, because elementary schools were parish-based, and the neighborhoods in Indy at that time were totally segregated. By the Brown ruling, Ritter was long gone, off to St. Louis to continue his work. I didn't know much of this when I was in those schools. I can confirm one thing: white Catholics were as racist as everyone else, even though we had been given the spiritual tools to overcome this. I am ashamed to say I was as bad as anyone else, at least until the civil rights movement and Dr. King made us face reality and choose which side we were on. My heart went out to those struggling souls, and I went one way, but many of my friends went the other and I lost them. I also lost my faith somewhere along that road. Never got it back, although I have sometimes missed its certainty since then. Thank you for this post.
Thank you for this response. It’s good to have your insider’s perspective on what happened among white Catholics.
My former schoolmates who were transferred to white high schools in Atlanta still feel hurt and angry about the racism they experienced in those places.
We all move on of course and must learn to grow, or else wither and die before death takes us. And yet, I am always surprised at how fresh the old wounds feel when I find myself writing about the painful past.
Thanks again for taking the time to read my essay and for sharing your thoughts. I really appreciate it.