By Kathy Bruce
This week, Kathy shares about how her experience growing up during the civil rights movement formed her in a way that encourages her to promote racial unity today.
Here is her story.
I grew up in Baltimore city during the civil rights movement (1954-1968). As a child, I never sensed there was a ‘movement’ of any kind going on. I was blessed that way, I guess.
I am the oldest of five children born to teenage parents. My parents were married a few months before I was born in 1957. I remember lots of love, laughter, and legacy building moments growing up. These moments continue to carry us through to this day.
My childhood was happy-go-lucky. I lived in a two parent home. I spent many hours playing outside with my siblings and friends. We played hopscotch and tag, skated, rode bikes and played baseball in the street. I remember sitting on the front steps of our house eating popsicles—cherry or chocolate for me!
As a child, I spent lots of time with extended family—my great grandmother, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. My parents would load us up in the car on Saturdays with packed lunches and blankets and we would head to the beach, Carr’s Beach. There, we would meet up with extended family to grill food and dance to the latest hit songs. I was unaware that the beaches we enjoyed were segregated. I was blessed that way, I guess.
My two youngest brothers were born in 1963 and 1968, the years President John F. Kennedy was assassinated and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Those were significant times in American History… African American History. I would come to revisit these significant historical moments as an adult.
I vividly remember the night of Dr. King’s assassination. My sister and I were spending the night with my grandmother. My grandmother lived on a very busy street. I would take great delight in seeing the shadows from the headlights of the cars make funny shapes through the blinds on the walls of her house. That night, there were no dancing lights streaming through the closed venetian blinds as I happily played. What was going on, I wondered? I remember going to the window, peeking through the blinds and was horrified by what I saw! There were army tanks and soldiers with long rifles riding up and down the middle of the streets patrolling them and the behavior of the residents. There were no cars coming or going about their business anymore. My grandmother said there was a curfew in place because people were rioting after learning of Dr. King’s death. Rioting? I didn’t know what that was. I was blessed that way, I guess. I remember being so afraid and wanting to go home but there was no way out. We were supposed to go home the following morning but were forbidden to leave because of the curfew. People were being arrested for breaking the curfew. We had to stay put for several days. I was ten years old.
I have always felt a strong connection to my ancestral roots, the place of my earthly beginnings. So, when my paternal cousin was able to trace our family’s American ancestral roots to a town in South Carolina—Darlington County—to be exact, I was thrilled!! I was in my 40’s at the time. By then, I had heard a myriad of stories about how that tragic night, April 4, 1968 came to be. I was so clueless as a young girl about the racial injustice and its effects. By this time, as an adult, I had experienced first-hand it’s sting. I had been spat upon and called a ni**er by a young white man who called me that from a passing car. I had been overlooked, dissed and dismissed in a country that I proudly sang patriotic songs about in elementary school, just because of the color of my skin.
It was fascinating to see the names of my ancestors on the census’ that were taken after they were brought to this country against their will. I was finally able to make a connection, knowing my roots. The historical documents revealed that our family could be traced back to the 1800’s. My ancestors were brought to a plantation in South Carolina that still stands today.
A few years ago, I was able to visit that plantation with my husband and granddaughter to pay homage to those whose shoulders I proudly stand upon. I literally touched the dirt that absorbed their blood, sweat and tears. Earlier, I would come to know that my mom’s and my husband’s American ancestral roots began there, too.
Armed with this historical reference helped to shape me and my world view. I never quite saw the land I loved through the eyes of that clueless little girl again. I could see my father (Sgt. U.S. Army) returning from active duty by bus to be ushered to the back of the building to get a drink of water from the ‘colored only’ fountain while the whites entered through the front door. I heard about so many injustices to people of color that made me cry and call out to the God I love. He is redeeming that pain for me in ways I could have never dreamed.
Fifty years after seeing the National Guard tanks roll down the street and the so-called ‘formal’ end to the Civil Rights Movement, I am keenly aware that the fight for civil rights is still as prevalent today as it was then. As a sixty year old woman, I am reminded that the ‘movement’ was and still is in my lifetime…not that long ago.
Standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before me, I want to do my part to call attention to the injustices that STILL exist today. My life is given to tearing down walls of separation through conversations. I’m called to be a bridge builder by having conversations with others about what’s going on in our neighborhoods, churches, cities, states, country and the world. I am called to be a bridge builder by exposing those ‘hidden’ things that undermine the dignity of God’s image bearers and calling attention to it for those who don’t get it!!
I am a voice for those who are marginalized. I know I can speak out in ways that my ancestors would never have dreamed possible. I can carry myself with the dignity and respect that they were not afforded. I can dream of a world that truly embraces the vision of unity. A John 3:16 mindset.(“For God so loved the world…”). I can help others see that—”Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere” (Dr. King). I can do it right in my sphere of influence—my kitchen table.
I am blessed that way.
Stories changing lives…
Kathy is a leader in her church and the community, and strives to build bridges to racial unity through conversations on her Facebook Blog Page—”Kitchen Table Conversations with Kathy.”
She and her husband of 40 years, John, live in Maryland. Together, they have 4 children, 7 grandchildren and will be welcoming a great-granddaughter in the Fall.
