by Shirl Whitfield

Created on: June 22, 2010   Last Updated: November 09, 2010

 My family is one that has experienced pain and loss resulting from racism. My mother and father cast me aside years ago because of their racism and ignorant beliefs.  They chose to throw away one grandchild when he was a teenager and have never met their two granddaughters all because I fell in love with a man whose skin is a few shades darker than mine.  Now this is a man of integrity, strong morals and character who only knows love, and is incapable of hate.  A man any parent would desire for their daughter to spend her life with.  Except for his black skin.  

When I was a child, my family thought nothing of telling racial jokes, peppering conversations with racial slurs and laughing about it.  They thought nothing was wrong with talking this way in front of their children.  In fact, they thought it was funny. They assumed I would grow up to think the same way they did and refused to accept it when my beliefs evolved differently from theirs.  I refused to hate other people just because of how they looked and my family had a hard time accepting this about me. 

The pain of parental rejection no matter what your age is a pain that is difficult to describe. Even though it has been a long time, some days that pain is fresh and new.  Sometimes the pain breeds an anger within me that begins to fester. Ironically the anger I have distanced myself from still has the strength to reach out and attempt to hold me captive to my past.  My pain still tries to transform itself into anger and disguises itself into a self righteous entitlement.  It attempts to seduce and convince me that as a victim of racism I should live within the ugly confines of anger and bitterness.  It would indeed be easy to allow my anger to consume me, calling myself a victim while hiding safely in the world of self pity and blame.  

At the same time, the high road of strength and courage beckons to me.  The strong powerful reward of the high road pushes solidly past the ugliness of anger and rejection.  Rather than allow my past to define me and lead me, I choose instead  to tell my story while looking forward to the future.  I want to share with others what can happen to a family when racism is allowed to permeate its poison into the fabric of family.  I share myself in hope of helping others see the uselessness of hating because of skin color. I pray that families will accept their children and who their children love unconditionally without the hate, fear and anger of racism that will ultimately lay claim and destroy a family.  Could that family possible be yours?   

Today our racially diverse family lives happily and contentedly.  Our black, white and brown skin is a harmonic mix of color, personalities and interests.   We are firm in our refusal to allow the outside world, be it family or others to define who we are.  Opinions and beliefs of others are not allowed to perpetuate racial discourse into our families fabric.  Our children are free to choose who they will journey through life with, knowing that we will have taught them to choose well based on the character of a person and not the shade of color God randomly decided to paint their skin.  

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