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A white man's view of black history by Mar Matthias Darin I was asked to write an article for Black History month. The history of the black people is rich and diverse. Historical icons like Frederick Douglass, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., Harriet Tubman, and many others quickly come to mind. While other are going to write on each of these respected and renowned people, I've decided to break from tradition and write on something a little different and deeply personal. I've decided to write about black history from a white man's point of view, specifically from my point of view. I'm sure some are scoffing at this, "What does a white man know about black history?" Quite a bit, actually. More importantly and relevant is the fact that I was born with a disability in the late sixties and grew up in the aftermath of the civil rights movement for which has blessed me with a very unique perspective. My family was very large and crossed many generations covering every age range imaginable. The older generations despised the blacks and phrases like "shoot first" or "hang 'em high" were quite common (along with many other crude phrases). The younger generations, including me, looked at our elders as a bunch of weird crazy people that desperately needed a long vacation in isolation. For my family, the civil rights movement brought with it a generational divide. My family is primarily Irish and immigrated to this country sometime in the sixteen or seventeen hundreds and settled in the deep south. The history of the deep south is well documented, so no need to beat a dead horse, needless to say, my family had a lot of hill billies and red necks. Not all of my family, mind you, was this backward in their thinking. Unfortunately, enough were that divisions quickly developed. Slavery may have been illegal, but you wouldn't know it in some parts of the south. My immediate family didn't ascribe to this insanity, thank GOD, and lived on the west coast. I still faced many challenges growing up in a post civil rights era. My family wasn't well off at all as the Great Depression decimated us. The only place my family could afford to live in was a predominantly black neighborhood. We certainly stood out. I'm not all to sure it was in a good way though. Fortune had shined upon us and my parents quickly made friends with our new neighbors. For me, growing up with blacks as my friends seemed perfectly normal though to my grandfather it was as alien as living on Mars. I really didn't understand why black people didn't have the same rights as I did or why many white people harbored such blind hatred against the blacks. I suppose in many ways, I still don't understand the whole racial divide. I grew up year after year hoping I would and that some day my grandfather would accept black people based on their merits and not their skin color. Over time, he did learn to accept them, though, to my knowledge, not completely, but at least he wasn't yelling declamatory statements that would raise the ire of our neighbors. In school, the history of slavery was taught and we read books about Frederick Douglass, et all. It seems the more I read, the less I understood the racial hatred. As I grew, both in stature and knowledge, the racist remarks began to fade and it seemed that some peace had settled between the whites and the blacks, or so I had thought. Growing up on the west coast was a whole different world from the southern parts my family first settled it. We went back to the south to visit relatives and get re-acquainted with the various nieces, nephews and cousins that had grown up separate from my immediate family. We were also looking into moving back there as all my grandmother's siblings still lived there. My grandfather had passed away just before our trip. We re-united with my grandmother's sister and my Aunt. She graciously let us stay with her until we learned our way around the city. It was like we went through a time machine and traveled back to the 1950s. None of us could believe how backwards everything was. I had the opportunity for a job and was looking forward to learning my way around. As I was learning my way around the city, I happened into a grocery store. I asked the manager where the rest room was. He replied, "White or Black?" (I have a dark completion if I spend to much time in the sun) Being me, I just couldn't resist my usual sarcasm and responded, "Since when did black people pee differently then white people?" Good GOD Almighty, you'd thought Hell had fallen off its foundations by the way this demented crazy man reacted. I couldn't believe my ears. Rest assured, that store didn't get my business. When I returned to my Aunt's house, I learned that both my grandmother and mother had similar experiences. My Aunt said thats the way it was in the south. My response, "Why?" My Aunt simply smiled and told me that I'd been living on the west coast too long. I didn't say it, but I sure though it, "Maybe I need to spend more time back on the west coast, this place is insane..." After two weeks, depressed from all the nonsense we encountered, my grandmother, mother, and I packed up and went back to the sane world on the west coast. Shortly after returning, I went to the local university to continue my education. It was there that I really started to notice the racial divide on the west coast. Until then, I never saw the divisions between white and black. Once I was registered at the university, I went to seek financial assistance. My Financial Advisor ironically was a black man. Without his help, I wouldn't have gotten my education and can literally say I owe him for that. After he reviewed my family's financial statements, he told me something I thought I would never hear - I was too poor for a student loan. "Don't give up hope though," was his next response. I only thoughts were "How was I ever going to begin paying for the outrageously expensive courses?" My Financial Advisor said I qualified for grants. He helped me fill out all that blasted never-ending paperwork. I was approved to my relief and shortly thereafter started classes. It is here when I really realized the racial divide. In all my classes, there were no black people. The friends I had as a child, grew up with, and had gone to school with weren't there. They were in the same boat as me, too poor for a student loan. My Financial Advisor and I had become friends. He was also my counselor and that really helped me get through the harrows of university life. I spoke to him quite a bit. To be quite honest, if it wasn't for him, I'd would have easily lost my sanity. I asked him why there wasn't any black students at the university taking classes. His response was, "They couldn't afford it." "Why couldn't the same grants that was paying for my education, pay for theirs?" I asked. The response literally left me dumb struck. He said, "They don't pay for black people." So there I was getting an education through a guaranteed U.S. government federal grant that was paid for by the tax payers, yet this very same federal program wouldn't help the very people I grew up with. These people were more family to me then my countless nieces, nephews, and cousins. To be honest, I can't put into words what I felt then. The very people that were were a fundamental part of my life, were being denied the opportunity I had been blessed with. Needless to say, not having the moral support I had grown accustomed to throughout my school years made university life almost unbearable. That was my first real exposure to the racial divide and it was a devastating blow at the least. Now twenty years later, I live in the middle of the mid-west and I still see the same racial divisions I encountered during my university life. Often I ask why and always get the same pathetic answer, "because thats the way it is." I doubt I will ever understand, but I do know that we, as a nation, can not continue like this. Black and white are colors, not races. This madness must come to an end or our nation will destroy itself. Being born with a disability and confined for life to a wheelchair has given me a very good understanding of what discrimination is. Ten years prior to my birth, anyone with a physical disability was locked away in a institution and hidden from society. As such, I have a deep appreciation for what black people have endured because of my own circumstances. No one should ever be the victim of racism. I can only hope and pray that the future reveals the dreams of the many great heroes of the civil rights movement as being fulfilled, equality based upon merit, not skin color. 
Top tags: black, family, white, history, west, coast, racial, university, divide, financial Comments from Joe 64.12.116.19 Very nice perspective. Thanks for sharing your experiences. Comments from Noarch 74.56.121.7 Very very VERY nice article. I would say you wrote the article not in a white man's perspective but in a human's perspective, without any prejudice at all. As an observer. Keep on writing! Comments from Buzzing J 124.82.48.58 I'm not sure how long have we been fighting for equality amongst races. I would assume it was shorter than the existence of racism. While we can't expect leaps and bounds, I believe a consistent, determined effort will get us there none the less. Comments from K Fields 12.12.30.225 Very good post! I too have never understood why there is such discriminations. I also have never understood why some say as one of your commenters has said that we can't expect leaps and bounds. My question to that is "why can't we?" I have been in the same boat as you have, only in different areas, I grew up in the north, then lived in the south. Different as night and day in a lot of things. ~K Comments from Jude 71.114.147.147 I enjoy reading your posts, but I have one complaint today. Your blog keeps bouncing around for some odd reason, can you please make it stay still? Thanks for sharing your experience and your perspectives. Comments from Denise Lee 67.191.197.118 Best post I've read today. Comments from Ravyn 69.229.178.226 Well said. Comments from RE Ausetkmt 76.241.186.32 Interesting.. I'll post my comments as a response to your post in the Black History Month Blog Carnival on it's first post date. Thank You For Your Submission Brother Matthias Comments from Mar Matthias Darin Joe, Noarch, Buzzing J, K Fields, Jude, Denise Lee, Ravyn: Thank you. Jude: I'll look into the bouncing... RE Ausetkmt: You're welcome. Comments from Chris R 66.93.66.228 Very nice read. You and I were raised at about the same time and share similar experiences. Thanks for the memories. Comments from Mar Matthias Darin You're welcome.
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