Welcome to the club

My mother had a saying that she always used when someone had an experience that she had. She would say “WELCOME TO THE CLUB”. This was her way of telling you that you were not alone. An example of this was the time my friend Marie and I went to Marshall Fields, a department store in downtown Chicago. We were a couple of teenage Negro girls having our first grown up shopping experience. We were having great fun looking around and enjoying the sights of the many people, the big beautiful buildings, and the noise from the traffic. When we got to the store, we found that the junior section was on the second floor.

We waited with some White women and a White man for the elevator to come. When the doors opened the man held the elevator doors for the White women and Marie. He stepped in front of me blocking my entrance into the elevator and allowed the door to close. As I waited for the next elevator to come, I wondered what had just happened to me. There was room in the elevator so it wasn’t lack of space. I didn’t feel good about what the man did and I didn’t understand why he did it. The next elevator finally came and I met Marie on the second floor. I tried not to let the incident mar our trip, but it did because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Marie tried to laugh it off, but it wasn’t funny to me. Needless to say the trip bombed.

When I got home, my mother was anxious to hear about the trip. My behavior apparently bothered her and she insisted on details about what happened during the trip. I finally told her about the man at the elevator, and asked her why he stepped in front of me and allowed the door to close on me. At first, she passed it off as bad manners. I pushed her to explain why he didn’t have bad manners until he got to me. My mother, then sat down with me with tears in her eyes and told me what it meant to a Negro in America in the 1950s. My mother told me that I should expect to be treated differently from other races. I asked my mom why should I be mistreated as a Negro. Marie is a Negro and he allowed her to go on the elevator. She said , Marie could have been any race as opposed to me who was definitely Negro. “WELCOME TO THE CLUB” baby and that isn’t the only thing that is going to happen to you. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to tell my children about the horrors of racism raging in this country. They will call you all kinds of ugly names and can do all kinds of ugly things to you. They especially like the N word (NIGGER). They have also have been known to beat up, string up (lynch),and otherwise kill us. As I looked at my mother in disbelief , she said that is the bad peoples’s cancer. . It is their disease, not yours. To survive them, you must continue to be the good person you are , and never consider doing the things they do. Trying to be like them gives approval to their behavior. Be who you are and be proud to be who you are. Be wary of anyone who claims to be colorblind. They are not seeing you as you are in all of your glory and beauty and not allowing you to be accepted as you are.

That was 50 years ago and still racism runs rampant in the country. I’ve had to have the talk with my child about how so many people have suffered and died at the hands of the evil hateful people who hide behind the white robes, religion, business suits, stiletto pumps, and silence.

Today we are no longer just Negroes. We became Blacks in the 1960s, and are currently identified as African Americans. I prefer Black, so as such their is some switching around between racial identifiers. At any rate, the Colored,Negro, Black and African American experience in America is tough, and if you know what I mean “WELCOME TO THE CLUB”