As a suburban white kid of the sixties, growing up in the segregated St. Louis area, I had no black classmates, teachers, acquaintances or neighbors. Until I went to college (and more so as I built adult relationships with black colleagues and friends), my only first-hand experiences with black people occurred while riding a city bus, tuning into the latest episode of Room 222, swimming in a public pool or watching Bob Gibson and Lou Brock play ball from the bleachers of Busch Memorial Stadium.
I’ll admit it, as I wrote that previous sentence, it felt very odd and constricting … even shameful. But this was the world I came from. Occasionally, at family gatherings, one of my uncles would take a puff from his nasty cigar and proceed to talk about “blacks moving into the neighborhood.”
As a boy, that kind of hateful rhetoric and the smoke hovering in my parents’ living room brought tears to my eyes. As an adult, it still makes me sick to my stomach. Unfortunately, at the time none of the other adults spoke up. I felt like I wanted to run out of the room, but I didn’t. I knew what he said was wrong. It was racism. It was painful.
Moving a few years ahead, maybe on some level I also thought “if people are saying bad things about black people just because they have a different skin color, what will they say about me if I tell them I’m gay?”
At times, it was a claustrophobic life of placating those who were the most vocal. Denying your true feelings. Walking on egg shells to keep the peace. Sadly, it was only a more distant chapter of simmering anxiety and poor race relations than the one we know well today.
On a personal level, I was able to learn and grow from it by honoring my own internal compass, broadening my experiences, meeting new and different people, traveling to new places, keeping an open mind … even for a time co-facilitating diversity training as a consultant and challenging managers and employees to draw from the strength of their differences rather than rejecting them.
Fortunately, both of my parents were decent people. They instilled in me a value of simple living. Caring for the disadvantaged. Saving for a rainy day. As a result, on some level, I’ve always identified more with the “have-nots” than the “haves”. It pains me to see people flaunt their advantage … their white privilege, their economic status, their lofty and meaningless titles.
Despite my limited experience with diverse people in the 60’s and 70’s, I was always comfortable sitting in the bleachers with Dad and the masses–mostly poorer black and white blue-collar workers–rooting for our hometown St. Louis Cardinals. Besides, it was all Dad could afford.
I recall one night. The Los Angeles Dodgers were in town. It was a close game. I don’t remember the score or the outcome, but the bleachers were full and Dad and I were in the middle of a buzzing crowd. Between pitches, I asked him why some of the black patrons, ordinarily faithful to the Cardinals, were cheering for the Dodgers.
“It’s because of Jackie Robinson,” he said. “Back when the Dodgers played in Brooklyn, he was the first black ballplayer in the Major Leagues. Ever since then, some black people are loyal to the Dodgers. They opened the door for others to follow.”
Now in 2020, with the recent murder of George Floyd and the ensuing nationwide protests and general mayhem and destruction, I’ve been thinking of this Jackie Robinson moment with Dad. How little I knew of the plight of black people back then. How much more I know now about loving other people no matter their skin color, speaking up for your rights, voicing your views, and demanding justice.
I’m not condoning the opportunistic looting in cities around the country, some of which we’ve seen here in Scottsdale, Arizona. But, in honor of George Floyd’s life and of many other black men and women who have died needlessly before him, we must find a way to heal as a nation.
We must acknowledge that racism in our society exists just as it has for a long time. We must listen to the “have nots” of our world. We must read more and follow the teachings of history and science.
We must elect leaders, nationally and locally, who will advocate for the rights of all Americans … no matter their skin color, cultural heritage, sexual orientation or religious beliefs.
Our future as a nation depends upon it.
8 thoughts on “A View from the Bleachers”
There’s a line between condoning the violence and understanding it. I completely understand and I’m empathetic. It seems like much of america is too. I’m hoping things stay that way. As a nation, we have an unbelievable amount of work to do in reconciliation. It’s interesting that this is happening at the same time as the pandemic/recession. We really need to start over and reboot. Yesterday my son said that there’s a lot of internet chatter that the supervolcano under yellowstone is getting ready to erupt within a year. That would be a perfect cap-off to a really crappy year.
Yes, we definitely need a reboot. God help us if there is a Yellowstone eruption.
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Beautiful. I can’t add anything more to your thoughtful essay!
I think it is good to remind people that there are many people who have fought many forms of discrimination in their lives. Thank you for sharing your experience as a young gay person, trying your best to navigate the racism and homophobia that were common then, and have not disappeared.
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Thank you, Tom. Hate and discrimination in any form is unacceptable. I think each of us needs to know what it feels like to be an outsider without hope before we can truly embrace change and begin to eradicate racism.
Is there really an age, race, religion, sex or gender reassignment that hasn’t been a subject of discrimination and prejudice nowadays? Everywhere you look, we see difference in wealth, status and power. And for many people discrimination is an everyday reality. The other day, Ericeira, who is four now, was told by her friend, who is only a year older that only boys can work as policeman and postman and girls can only stay at home to cook and clean. There are many things we can do everyday to make the world a better place but sadly not everyone is in the right frame of mind.
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Yes, sadly discrimination comes in many forms every day. The good news for your children is they have a kind, compassionate, and encouraging mother. You will be there to remind them to flow their hearts and dreams and never to allow the labels of others define or restrict them. Be well, Aiva!
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A long cool look in the mirror
Thank you, Kim. There is pain in this recollection, but also awareness of how far we can evolve from where we came. Hope you are well.