Never-Ending Racial Hostility
I came to the United States in 1952. At that time, this was a segregated country. Discrimination based on race was something I could not understand nor had ever experienced. I lived, once adopted, in a quiet quasi-Southern town where I saw firsthand the invidious nature of rank bigotry and racism.
My father managed two movie theatres, one in the white part of town and one in the black. One time, he took me to his office at the white theatre and then to the one in the black theatre. I asked my father why the makeups of the audiences were so starkly different, and he replied, "That is just the way it is." Not satisfied with his answer, I asked why the dark-skinned people live on one side of the river and the white on the other. He said, "That's the way it is in this country -- people prefer to live with their own races and not mix, besides it's the law." I replied to him that I thought it was wrong. I had never viewed or perceived the nature of a person by his or her skin color.
While still in Europe after the War and living on the streets of a completely destroyed city, I was often given food and treated more kindly by the black American soldiers than their white counterparts. I did not view them as being different because of their skin color, nor did they view me differently because of mine.
But race relations within the United States were something I could never accept. The issue of civil rights remained at the forefront of my consciousness, and on a mild summer day in August of 1963, while attending college in Washington, D.C., I was one of 200,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial to hear Martin Luther King deliver his "I Have a Dream" speech. For the next five years I participated in voter registration drives, demonstrations, marches, and political campaigns to once and for all put an end to the ultimate stain on the American character.
I have watched with some degree of pride and a sense of accomplishment as doors were opened, barriers torn down, attitudes changed, and equality become reality and not a dream. I have no doubt that if Martin Luther King could see the transformation of our society that has taken place over these past 46 years, there would be many things he would be proud of -- not the least of which is the election of a biracial man as president.
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