This hit home for me. I’m a white woman, raised in the south. My mother (who is racist as hell) tried her hardest to raise me to be as racist as she is, but failed.
I remember, growing up, having friends who were black, but not being allowed to sleep over at their house or vice versa. She tried to say it was because they were boys. So, i made friends with black girls.
She had to explain her true feelings then. I remember being sick to my stomach about how ugly she was.
One particular black boy that I had known since we were about four years old, came from a wealthy family. His father was a doctor, his mother a lawyer. They were obviously educated, cultured, and refined.
My mother constantly made comments about how eloquent his mother, Portia, spoke. She knew Portia came from a poor background, and just could not believe she didn’t speak like an uneducated person.
She never seemed to remember the woman was a high powered attorney.
Thank you for sharing your stories. I enjoy your writing.