My Reflections on Race Through Rose-Colored Glasses
1865. It’s the year the last slaves in Galveston, Texas found out they were FREE!! The Union Army rolled through Texas, and shared news of their freedom on June 19, 1865.
FREE! Can you imagine the looks on those folks faces when they got the news? Their excitement? Their disbelief? Can you also imagine how they must have felt when they realized that slavery had been abolished for two and half years with the 1863 signing of the Emancipation Proclamation by President Abraham Lincoln. Still, they were FREE!
Now, let’s fast forward to the present …
1965. Oh, what a different a century makes! 1965 is the year I was born, and able to reap the benefits of the harvest from my ancestors. No Jim Crow. No marching for the Civil Rights Movement. I first felt the traces of the struggle through desegregation, and being bused across town; so, I could go to elementary school with White children. And that remained the case until I graduated from high school in Burlington, N.C.
(SIDE NOTE: The significance of Juneteenth was never taught in my history class. Why teach students about slaves and slavery, and not teach them about the emancipation of slaves and slavery? #JustSaying)
In North Carolina, the Confederate flag was always lurking somewhere in the background — on bump stickers and license plates of cars; patches on hats and clothing as well as the flag itself, waving and flying at public venues AND sporting events like, say … NASCAR races! An image that I recorded subconsciously in my mind, but never giving it any weight as it related to me.
In my career, I’ve managed to break through some barriers with lots of preparation, a little bit of luck and God’s favor. I learned early on that if I wanted to get ahead, I couldn’t take NO for an answer. In fact, at a time when many doors were being slammed in my face, a colleague of mine reminded me that it only takes ONE yes. And so, even today, I’m always looking for the ONE yes.
Education was extremely important in my family, and my parents and grandparents would not allow anything to interfere with my “studies,” as my grandmother would say. I’m a third-generation college graduate when many of my classmates were the first in their families to attend collage. My great Uncle Willie even pledged Omega Psi Phi Fraternity at Johnson C. Smith University in Charlotte, N.C. I pledge Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority (AKA) at North Carolina Central University (NCCU) in Durham, N.C. I believe the combination of a solid education and my parent’s encouragement gave me an advantage, a leg up, AND the super power of resiliency, which allowed me to see the world through rose-colored glasses. That’s why I’m always smiling and so happy when you see me.
As a kid, my parents were always so hopeful about the future, telling me on a daily basis: “Lisa, you can be anything you want to be!” And I believed them. Today, I wonder how they could be so hopeful, despite living through the assassinations of Evers, Malcolm, Martin, Kennedy and Kennedy! How?
I was taught not to see race or color. I never had the “girl, you’re Black, and this is how it’s going to affect your life” conversation with my parents. Instead, their daily affirmations gave me constant reassurance and planted the seeds of Black excellence in my head. According to them, the world was my oyster. Those daily affirmations are one of the best gifts my parents gave me. I had to be successful in my endeavors. I didn’t have a choice. My parents expected it. Now, I can see how I was coddled from the racism and the realities of the world.
As a young adult, I was determined to succeed in spite of my skin color, completely naïve to systematic racism in play. Completely, naïve! I stumbled upon White privilege and systematic racism on my own as I got out in the real world and had to compete with White kids with trust funds. Oh, those trust-fund kids! That was my first indication that I wasn’t dealing with a leveled playing field.
As a Black woman, I’ve lost opportunities and promotions. I’ve dealt with unequal pay and gender inequality. I’ve run into my share of microaggressions, too. And I’m not even going to get into the “petting” of my hair! And “Black while driving” — I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stopped by the cops in my sporty convertible cars — first, a Chrysler Sebring and now, a Ford Mustang — a lot!! At least 50 times! Fortunately for me, no major incidents occurred, but I’ve been issued a lot of tickets! A LOT! It’s one of the reasons I don’t like to drive anymore, and take Uber every chance I get.
It’s not easy being a Black, female entrepreneur. In fact, it’s the hardest job I’ve ever had in my life! But as my mentor – that is, the late, great pr maven Pat Tobin – once told me: “If it was easy, everyone would do it.” Her words stuck with me, and she encouraged me to start my own business. I’ve managed to push through the hard times. Make a way out of now way.
I know I’m fortunate, and I recognize my level of privilege within a certain context. I know I have the luxury to make certain choices in order to live my best life. But, make no mistake — it’s still hard out there for a Black woman, Black man, Black child … anybody of color. The death of Trayvon Martin woke me up! And now I see race all too clearly.
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ast year, the industry was buzzing about the performance of award-winning actor Michael B. Jordan (“The Wire,” “Friday Night Lights”), and his portrayal of Oakland shooting victim Oscar Grant in the award-winning indie “Fruitvale Station. It opened a dialogue of conversation about police brutality and the gunning down of African Americans boys and men. Then, the Trayvon Martin case hit, and all hell broke loose. And thankfully, Black America hasn’t been the same since. No justice, no peace!
