Fifty-three years ago today, I sat in my English class in Dallas and doodled spirals on my notebook. The next week would be Thanksgiving, and I was dreaming about my four-day holiday. One year earlier, my family had moved to Dallas from Baltimore, and I thought we had landed in a different universe — in a place where kids of color attended separate schools, in a place where drinking fountains were marked “white” and “colored.” I had never seen those signs before.
A few desks were empty that day. The President of the United States was in town, and my classmates had gone to Dealey Plaza to watch the motorcade. Our teacher, Mrs. Rudd, always followed her lesson plans, but that day was different. She turned on the radio. “Our president and our governor have been shot,” the announcer said. Then he said something about Parkland Hospital. And then, “The President is dead.”
I didn’t hear anything after that. I stared out the window looking for signs of life. The playground was empty. There were no cars on the street. It was as if a bomb had dropped. (I feel much the same way now.)
We weren’t dismissed from school. After English, I went to Latin where Mrs. Vernon insisted on giving us a quiz, and then to Geometry for a test. Some children were crying as they tried to calculate circumferences.
Students burst into the halls between classes. I heard one boy say, “I’m glad he was shot, because he was Catholic.” The intensity of his hatred reverberated against the walls, the venom in his voice palpable. I stood frozen in fear as I watched him and his buddies saunter down the hall.
Over fifty years have passed, and I no longer hear about Catholics as the targets of hate. Now that poison is thrust at Muslims and Latinos and African Americans and Gays and People with Disabilities. Anyone and everyone who is labeled different. Have we moved back to signs on drinking fountains?
I’m still frightened by the bigotry that continues to thrive in our country. I see no guidance from the president-elect or his appointees in reversing this trend. After Kennedy was assassinated, I never thought our country lacked leadership. I question that now.
I don’t want to end this post with a lament. It’s not 1963, and I’m not the petrified kid I was then. You’ve probably read the many ways you and I can take a stand against hateful acts and the people who propagate them. Here are only four of the many organizations involved in this effort.
American Civil Liberties Union
Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund
There are many others. Most important is to do something. Be vigilant. Protest. Join. And don’t leave anyone out.
Of course, you remember. I’m sure everyone of a certain age living in Dallas at that time remembers that day. Yes, we need to hold hands now and march and protest and hang out with preschoolers.
I finally got around to being able to read your post, I always want to have undivided attention when doing so. So very moving, especially since I am always on the brink of tears since this most recent election. I have strong in-school recollections of this day also, as well as the profound discrimination of those times. I feel stunned, as on that day 53 years ago. I find great joy and a feeling of empowerment when I work with my young preschoolers; it is a diversion from our immediate crisis at hand. Your articles help bring about a sense of community, kind of like holding hands.
Really enjoyed the post……you are a true writer……more, more
Thanks, Ken.
Strong and beautiful post, Harriet. Great comparison. Michaela
Thanks, Michaela. I’m sure you remember the day, too.
Let’s hope you’re right and that we are not moving backwards.
A beautiful post, Harriet. It’s hard to remember when being a Catholic almost precluded you from being elected to office. Gives me hope that one day, some other ways we classify people and make them the ‘other’ will be relics of a long ago pats.
Thanks always.
Thank you, as always you are clear and articulate.
Very powerful, it wasn’t that long ago and we all need to speak up.
Thanks, Lynn.