
Throughout the Trump administration, Life in the Boomer Lane couldn’t make sense of what appeared to be groups of polar opposites who both thought that Trump was oh-so-swell-in-every-way. There were the educated, middle and upper middle class professionals who invested in the stock market, dutifully paid taxes, sometimes played golf and belonged to country clubs and spent time evaluating what would be the right school for their kids. Then there was the other group, not-so-much educated, blue collar or below, probably didn’t have an excess of funds to either invest, play golf or join a country club. They loved their kids but school selection wasn’t a high priority.
Then one day the light dawned. Each of these groups shared one overriding mission in life, one great passion that drove them on: the right to be white. If you were white and middle class, you most likely had inherited some form of wealth. It’s something most people don’t talk about. But even in modest white families, in the absence of trust funds and stocks and jewelry, houses are usually passed on. And they are houses that have gained a lot of equity over the years. In non-white homes, there are either no properties to pass on or the properties that do exist have been in areas of little or no appreciation. In the other group, there may not have been any kind of wealth, but there was a belief, passed down through the generations, that being white afforded a dignity in the social structure. And that, in the absence of anything else, became everything.
Both groups understood very well that life in a truly egalitarian society would mean a sea change in their own lives. For those with money, it would mean losing the edge in jobs, in educational placement, and in the ability to purchase real estate that would rise in value. For those without money, it would mean being in the lowest rung of the caste system in this country. And without voter suppression or gerrymandering, the political landscape would change dramatically. For both the haves and the have nots of the white population, the losses would be profound.
The end of slavery did little to lesson the divide between blacks and whites. For the next hundred years, inequality reigned in education, economic well-being, employment, voting rights, and social acceptance. In the 1960s, the modern Civil Rights Movement began. Black and white activists, known as freedom riders, took bus trips through the American South to protest segregated bus terminals and attempted to use “whites-only” restrooms and lunch counters. Governor George C. Wallace of Alabama stood in a doorway at the University of Alabama to block two black students from registering. Approximately 250,000 people took part in The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Martin Luther King gave his “I Have A Dream” speech as the closing address in front of the Lincoln Memorial.
The results of all of this were predictable. Freedom Riders were beaten, intimidated, killed. A bomb at the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama killed four young girls and injured several other people prior to Sunday services.
On July 2, 1964: President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 into law, preventing employment discrimination due to race, color, sex, religion or national origin. The following year, black religious leader Malcom X was assassinated.
On March 7, 1965: 600 civil rights marchers walked from Selma, Alabama to Montgomery—the state’s capital—in protest of black voter suppression. Local police blocked and brutally attacked them. The day became known as “Bloody Sunday.” After successfully fighting in court for their right to march, Martin Luther King and other civil rights leaders lead two more marches and finally reached Montgomery on March 25. On August 6, President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965 to prevent the use of literacy tests as a voting requirement. It also allowed federal examiners to review voter qualifications and federal observers to monitor polling places.
This Sunday was the anniversary of Bloody Sunday. Just as the end of slavery did not mean the end of racial discrimination in the nineteenth century, the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s did not bring about racial parity in the twentieth. And it it is ironic that on the anniversary of Bloody Sunday, the bi-racial woman who was very recently a Princess of the British Empire, came forward and revealed that the British Royal Royal Family, leaders of a huge commonwealth of countries comprised of dark-skinned people, had concern that her son would be born with dark skin. She was told that her son would not carry the title of “Prince.”
The right to be white dies hard. It’s road is paved with the countless men, women, and children who have been lynched, shot, beaten, raped, humiliated and have had their most basic human rights denied by this great and amazing country. LBL doesn’t know how long the tragic disparity of wealth and human rights will continue between black and white. She doesn’t know how long this country will be deprived of the intellectual power and capability that isn’t encouraged. She does know that as long as we continue to deny the potential of all of us, we will only get the opposite.
One small victory: On Feb 27, 2020, the Democratic-majority House of Representatives overwhelming voted to make lynching a federal hate crime in the country. ·It only took 157 years and thousands of black lives.
Shelley
March 8, 2021
I just finished reading The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett and Caste by Isabel Wilkerson. Both were excellent, well written books that made me think very deeply about our country and our history.
It is clear that what we call “black” history is really SUPPRESSED history. I hope for the day when there is no need for women’s or black histories — when those suppressed histories take their rightful place as mainstream history.
Caste was upsetting, heart wrenching, but so important to read. I had to stop several times because I was sickened by the violence and hatred.
Sent from my iPhone
Life in the Boomer Lane
March 10, 2021
Caste was a frying-pan-over-the-head-moment for me, even though I thought I was well-read in black history and black issues. It was horrific and heart-wrenching and necessary. What you said is exactly true: black history is suppressed history.
Kate Crimmins
March 9, 2021
This was a well written interesting post. I have white privilege but didn’t know I had it for most of my life. Many years ago I was a colleague with a black man. Occasionally we would do a road trip for business. It was during the days of “proud to be black” was popular. He told me he’d do anything to be white. I was stunned because he had done well professionally, had a wonderful family and lived in a nice neighborhood. Then he explained about the indignities blacks suffer routinely for no reason. We stopped at a small restaurant for lunch and for the first time I noticed how differently we were treated as we looked like an interracial couple (it was the 80s and not as accepted in the small rural towns). It’s hard to be white and truly understand white privilege. After all my years with him, I still have trouble with it.
Life in the Boomer Lane
March 10, 2021
Yes, all so true. We live with white privilege and never have to think about it. Our world is simply what we know. Those who are shut out of that world must feel the effects of it every single day.