Being born in 1969, I often refer to my generation (or Generation X or MTV Generation) as the ‘Children of the Civil Rights Movement’. If you are in my generation, most of our parents not only grew up and lived through Jim Crow but they also experienced all aspects of the ‘Civil Rights Movement’ from the Nation of Islam and Black Panthers to Southern Christian Leadership Conference and Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee. For the Baby Boomers, their worldview would change right before their very eyes. As such, their world would change from an oppressive segregationist culture to a more inclusive culture. This experience was truly an exercise of seeing the world change in ‘real time’.
However, what I realized early on in my early years was that I had no idea of what my loved ones had faced. I had seen documentaries like “Eyes on the Prize” and TV series like “Roots”. I had access to publications like ‘Jet’ and ‘Ebony’. Despite access to countless people in my world who had experienced this time, it wasn’t until many years later that I truly gained an appreciation of the horrors they faced.
And it wasn’t because I was sheltered. It was not because I did not want to know about the past. My loved ones actively shared with me many stories about their past.
However, the world I was born into was very different than my mother’s generation. My classmates were black, white, Asian and others. The stores, restaurants, and establishments which were segregated for my mom were integrated for me. There were no ‘Whites only’ signs or ‘Colored only’ signs.
For me, integration was the norm.
And yet, it was not.
As I started asking questions like ‘how did you go to this establishment or that establishment?’, the responses let me know that they came from a different world. I started realizing that the world I was living in was a new one. I started realizing that the world I was living in is different. I started realizing I couldn’t relate to my mother’s world. I did not know what it was like to ‘sit in the back of the bus’ but my mother could. I did not know what it was like ‘sit in the colored people’s section of the movie theater’, but my mother could.
And I also realized my mother couldn’t relate to my world. I grew up with white friends. I spent the night at the houses of some of my white friends. I played with them. I was a member of organizations with them. All of this was foreign to my mother but it was not foreign to me.
And when I finally graduated high school, it really hit me. My generation was the bridge. We were living the experience created by our parents. We had access to people, places or things that had a direct connection to a period of our lives we had never seen but knew was always there.
We did not need to see the Ku Klux Klan, or the burning crosses, or the Whites only / Colored Only signs. We did not need to see documentaries regarding the tragedies and hardship of this time. Our parents could tell us. Our parents could show us. Our parents could remind us how close we were to one of the most traumatic parts of American history.
As such, after I graduated from high school, I realized something powerful. Our generation had to make sure future generations know about what THAT world was like. My generation grew up with ‘living historians’ in our homes. We knew who we could speak to about this things and we still had enough reminders to let us know how close we are to the past.
So, as Children of the Civil Rights generation and the first generation after ‘historic’ Jim Crow, we know it’s our responsibility to make future generations know how close we are to a time we hope will never come again.
Comments
Post a Comment