by Heather Swearingin

Created on: June 27, 2010

“And he shot him off the fence, and buried him in the back yard!” This is the ending to a story that has been passed through my family for a couple of years, but not many. My great grandfather had shot a black man off of his fence for stealing one of his chickens, even though you never hear about the chicken being recovers or a “Good thing he got his chicken back, because your great grandfather was very poor. My great grandfather shot that man because he was black.

                That story had disturbed me when I was a child, but I never really got the concept of how not so long ago that really was.

                I live in a small Missouri town, in which rebel flags fly high, and not a colored person is to be seen. My friend that had recently moved here from a large city could not invite her old friends to stay with her because they were black, and she didn’t want them to be treated the way they would here, and yet I still did not understand fully.

                Sitting in American History class one day at school, we were studying racism in the 40’s. It seemed so wrong, and some kids laughed in the back of the class room. We learned about Hitler killing people, just because of their belief or race. Genocide was used just because he didn’t like them. But yet again, I didn’t quite understand until the teacher pressed her gentle hands to her face and began to cry. A once sarcastic and energetic woman had realized the harshness of the situation, and had been upset. I still remember that day when she brought out photos of her father to show us. He had been in WW2, and had walked upon the holocaust. I still remember that day, and yet I still wasn’t getting the whole picture.

                A weekend trip to Kansas City with the parents really showed me how cruel people are, and I finally got it. Waiting in line at the concessions with my parents money waiting for a drink, many people swarmed around me. Under compensating for the price of the drink, I had ran short, and stood in the line awkwardly not knowing what to do. The young beautiful colored woman in front of me saw my dismay and offered to help me. She chipped in the extra two bucks to help me out, and save me from embarrousment. I thanked her nicely and stepped aside to get my lids and straw, when I seen a commotion going on beside me. The nice colored woman behind the counter had dropped a mans drink that stood in front of her. The man was furious, and spit on her. He called her names that shall not be mentioned for they are too harsh. I was so upset about the whole ordeal, I cried.

                The fact that racism still lives in our world gives me chills. I hope that someday it will come to a stop, because no matter what, we are all equal.

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