A Different America...

I grew up in a different America. Different that is from the one Hillary Clinton grew up in. Maybe different from yours too.

In my America, Black men were tortured and killed for “sassing” a White man. Black men and boys were tortured and killed for "looking" at a White woman. Black people did not challenge White people – about anything! In my America White women could have a Black man or boy killed on a whim, or because she was having a bad day. I grew up in an America where being born Black was a deadly sin.

I grew up in a sexist America. An America where White women were treated as servants, and Black women were treated as property. Where women in general were subservient to men in general, but where the pecking order was clear and violently enforced. White men first, then White women and children, Black men and then Black women and children. A hierarchy enforced with violence.

In My America, Black people could be killed without consequence – and often were.  And any Black leader who dared challenge the status quo signed his own death warrant, and possibly those of his family and community.  In my America any roadside could hold a grave, any river hide a body.

My America has changed… and is changing. My son does not know my America.

In my America, you can walk into any barbershop or beauty shop, any church or pool hall and hear the fear voiced for Sen. Obama. It is a fear born of experience and history. It is one expressed almost automatically. The second sentence after “did you hear who’s running?”

Yesterday I heard Sen. Clinton’s comments about why she stayed in the race. I don’t attribute any bad intent to her. Rather it sounded like a mother casually mentioning to a young child, the gun she kept in the nightstand. An irresponsible and reckless thing to do. The comment hit me like a punch in the stomach, followed by the thought – she’s going to get him killed.

I have watched the reaction – swift and condemning. And I can measure the change in my America from the swiftness, tone and tenor of that reaction. But I have also watched some of those who support Sen. Clinton defend her. They grew up in her America. I understand. In her America, I didn’t exist except as part of the furniture, or maybe as a pet. Nothing to worry about, to be sure.  

The good thing that happened yesterday was the breadth and depth of the condemnation of Sen. Clinton’s remarks. That reaction was a good measure of just how much my America has changed and is becoming our America. Maybe this time will be different.