“You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

Via SHNV

 

Reminds me of mine, Bert Mudd.

They say that writing is good for the soul, and my soul needs something good. So, I think it’s time I talked about being one of the Southern white babies raised by a black maid. Sometimes, I forget that I not only grew up during the Civil Rights struggle, I grew up in the middle of it. It wasn’t something that we watched on the news every evening that took place somewhere else in the country – we watched it out the windows of the car, or out the windows of the church, or out the door of our store.

Or even literally in our own front yard. It was right there.

I know from talking with soldiers that their recollections of a particular battle are quite different from historical accounts written afterward. Historical accounts have a tendency to trim the edges in order to make something a better narrative and more digestible, when in fact, the real thing is usually chaotic, fluid, completely indescribable, and very hard to articulate. Things that make perfect sense in your head no longer make any sense at all when they’re spoken or written down.

That’s exactly the way I would describe my experience with the Civil Rights struggle. People outside the South have so many preconceived notions based on their examination of old black-and-white footage and documentaries that they often correct me on my own personal memories.

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