by Buckytat

Created on: July 01, 2010   Last Updated: July 02, 2010

As a white girl who grew up in small towns in the South, I suppose it would be acceptable to say I would never move into a neighborhood if I were the only person of my race living there.  However, on the contrary, I most definitely would move into such a neighborhood, as my family did once upon a time.

In a town where a Civil War battle was the highlight of Confederate history, work was scarce for my father and rent was difficult to make.  My parents found a one bedroom apartment (for our family of 4) at a great price so we moved.  We moved from our neighborhood with its white southern families and their brick homes with manicured lawns to this apartment on the bottom floor of a run down, Civil War era home.  The neighbors here were all black, with their dilapidated houses and broken down cars, loud music and curious stares.

My mother had always taught my brother and I to not judge and to view everyone as an equal.  But even she, with her open mind and kindness to all, was skeptical.  I was not allowed to go in to the homes of the friends I had made.  They could come to ours, but if they started raiding the kitchen she would sweetly ask them to go home.  However, as the months went on, my mother also made friends and seemed more at home in this neighborhood.  We found ways to block out the sounds of late night block parties and we noticed the looks we got as we drove through our neighborhood had changed to smiles, nods and waves.  Our next door neighbor had chickens and would trade with my mother, eggs for items like milk, flour or sugar.  They didn’t have much money, but then again, neither did we.  We were family oriented, my brother and I were priority for my mother, but we found that our neighbors had even closer knit families than ours.  We eventually moved on to another town where my father had found more work, but living in that neighborhood changed my perspective for a lifetime.

As we moved from town to town, I began to notice that the white people lived on one side, and the blacks on the other.  I attended high school with exactly 3 black kids and one Asian.  The “ethnic” side of town was sneeringly referred to as “N (word)-Town” and was to be avoided at all costs.  What were these people so afraid of?  Were they anticipating retaliation for their close-mindedness and stupidity?  I would often drive through this part of town,

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