Privileged And Safe: Reflecting On My Childhood In The South

These days I’ve been noticing that I don’t know what to say. To the people who have been silenced for so long.

I see their rage and fury.

I know these feelings are deeply rooted in our collective history. I grew up in South Georgia, in a small town called Millen, in the 50s and 60s.

I knew even as a child that I had rights and privileges that black people did not have.

No one had to say the words out loud that they thought blacks were inferior (although many did).

I could never understand the inequity or the reason for this kind of thinking. I’m ashamed that this was the ideology I grew up around. I am sick to my stomach that these were the messages I received.

Two water fountains. .

Growing up in the South

I was taught to just accept things as they were.

“Colored people are separate and less than whites.”

This is the way was. No explanation.

I use the word ‘colored’ because this was the word that was used at the time.

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