When Illusions Die

“Atticus, he was real nice."

"Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

I've not posted here in a few years but I am back now because a story has come to mind and it won't due to keep it to myself.  It all started with this headline on Buzzfeed:

Atticus Finch Is A Racist In “To Kill A Mockingbird” Sequel

 WHAT?! One of my favorite stories of all times is To Kill a Mockingbird.  When I heard she was writing a sequel I was thrilled.  But...this?

I will need to read the story before I decide how I feel about this betrayal...it FEELS like betrayal but I just don't know yet.  We will reserve judgement until the facts are gathered but here is my story....

I was raised in a neighborhood that was predominantly white...well, it was ALL white if you really want the facts.  I'd never really seen a person of color until Junior High.  You must be apprised of this fact not because I believe I need to embrace what it known as "white privilege" but to add context and meaning the the stories I am about to relate.

When I was in Fifth or Sixth grade I had, as previous posts will tell you, become aware of what it meant to be living on the wrong side of Manor Street.  I still had no interactions with people whose skin was a different color.

The scene is this:  I am riding in my father's car with three of my friends when we see a Black man walking down the street.  One of my friends says, "Look at that Ni**ar!"  

You MUST realize I did not even know what she meant but I figured out pretty quickly that it was not good because the car came to a screeching halt....in the middle of the street.  My father put the car in Park and turned to my friend and said, "We do not use words like that in our family and if you continue you can just get out of the car and walk home."

I.  Was.  Mortified!  I already had trouble making friends!  What was he trying to do to me? (and, of course, it was all about me...I was still a kid!) I sank down into the seat, my face burning with embarrassment, hoping my friends would stop and just forget this ever happened.  How do you think THAT turned out?

My father tried to explain but I did not get it.  He was perhaps not as eloquent as Harper Lee:

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

 

Fast forward to Junior High....auditions for the Miss Jr. High School pageant.  There were three of us: a friend from the right side of Manor Street, a beautiful Hispanic girl, and me.

I performed a lively baton twirling routine to Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walking."(Don't quote me on that as I'm not sure of the exact song but I did have a routine done to this song...and afterwards never wanted to hear it again!)   My friend did a snappy little baton number to a Sousa March.  The Hispanic Girl took the stage and began to sing, without accompaniment.  It was beautiful.  I do not remember what she sang but I leaned over to my friend and said, "It's over. She is more talented than both of us combined."  My friend just smirked.  

The judges announced the winner and it was my friend...the one from the right side of Manor Street.

I was shocked!  I thought surely they'd made a mistake.  I quickly approached one of the judges to inquire as to why they'd done this.

The response was, "We can't have someone like THAT representing our school."

I still did not get it.  What was that supposed to mean?  Wasn't it about talent?  No, I guess it wasn't.
I went home and told my Mom and Dad.  They just shook their heads and said there was really nothing we could do about it. 

Fast forward again to High School.....time for the Senior Prom!  As I said, I had trouble making friends and boyfriends were in the same category.  I had a friend though; a good friend.  He made me laugh, he was really nice and he was a REAL friend (more on that later.)  We decided that we'd go to the Prom together since neither of us had a significant other.  It would be great!

After I said YES he looked at me with a seriousness I'd never seen and tinged with a bit of sadness.  He asked, "Will your parents be OK with this?"  I said OF COURSE they will be.  They won't care that your skin is a different color than mine!'  He still looked sad and said he'd call that night to confirm.

I told my parents my plans that night.  My mom immediately started to cry and my Dad said that I could not do that.  I was shocked!  I asked why and my parents just kept saying it wasn't a good idea. The more they resisted answering the angrier I got.  I shouted, "Is it because he's BLACK?!"

I don't remember what else they said because I was in full tantrum mode.  Where was that guy who stopped the car in the middle of the freaking street to embarrass me by standing up for what was right?

Well my friend called and I have to say my tantrum continued and I said something to my parents that to this day I regret....I also regret putting my friend through this too.  I answered the phone and he asked, "Can you go?"  I held out the phone to my parent's and and shouted, " YOU tell him.  You tell him your lily white daughter cannot go to the prom with him because he is BLACK!"

I don't remember much after that....only that I worked at my department store job the evening of the prom.

Fast forward to a Social Work class in my Master's Program.  Sharing that story was a part of a journal of exploring how our life experiences make us who we are.  The Professor commented on my story something to the effect that I should not be too hard on them because they were a product of their stories; a product of the times.  I'm still grateful to her for that insight.

Fast forward to today.  Where we are living in anything but a post-racial society.  I have feelings on that which are better left for my other blog, but I'd like to point out that only certain people get a pass on that "product of the times" thing.  For instance the fact that a liberal Democrat icon was just a product of his times when he was a member of the KKK but my parents would probably be demonized for being a product of THEIR time.  Not right but there it is.

I later learned that my older cousin who just sort of disappeared one day and was never talked about again had married a Black man.  Their lives, as you can guess, were not easy.  Neither community accepted or welcomed them.  They faced hard times.  I talked to my mom about this a bit when I was an adult.  She expressed that their refusal to allow me to go was based more on the troubles we would face than the fact that we were of different races.   Fear makes us do things sometimes that are not in keeping with our principles.  We are all human.

A footnote: during my High School years there were race riots.  I do not know what set them off but reading history I could probably guess.  It boiled over and one day I found myself walking down the hall by myself when around the corner came about 100 kids; Black kids.  They started beating on anyone with white skin.  I was paralyzed...not necessarily out of fear but because I was trying to process why they were doing this.  I felt no danger until they were almost to me and a few ran in my direction....OK, now I was scared but I was STILL a bit naive in that I thought, "I'm a good person.  Surely they know that."

All of a sudden my friend appears out of nowhere, blocking their way.  He said, "She's OK."  They passed by.  What did THAT mean? I still didn't get it.  He told me to leave school and go home.  I did.

So, today, I find that the narrative says I am NOT OK just because of the color of my skin.  Go figure.

So....back to Atticus Finch....Is Ms. Lee's sequel a fine telling of the story of realizing your parents are not perfect nor are they gods or is it a story about the fact that racist thought and deed is in the White person's DNA?  Only reading the story will answer that.  Only reading the story will tell if Harper Lee is attempting to help us grow up....or attempting to feed the narrative that has so divided our country.

I leave you with one final quote from that much beloved tale:

 “People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird