By Shirley Skufca Hickman
I wrote the poem below at Cal Poly [California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo] after Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated [on April 4, 1968]. A black student and I were friends, but after King’s death, he had nothing to do with me. When I asked his friend, also black, why, he said, “He doesn’t like white people now.” I protested. “I’m not prejudiced.” My student’s friend replied, “It’s hell to be judged by the color of your skin, isn’t it?”
I am his white teacher.
My white hand
greets his black hand,
and we walk as friends.
But other teachers
come to take my place.
Their names and faces
burn on TV screens.
His hand releases mine
and raises in a fist held high.
| Copyright © 2020 by Shirley Skufca Hickman |
Thanks for sharing this touching poem, and for its the context. Poignant.
ReplyDeleteGood to Remember. We all stand up for freedom. Briefly. In sadness.
ReplyDeleteThen get on with life. Hoping someone is watching out for freedom.
52 years pass and we stand again. Realizing how little has changed.
We stand again wondering. Will we ever make a change?
Great intro: This is how my life changed when Roots first came on TV. I was the only one with no skin color in my African-American history class and then I was all alone. We as a classroom got past that. We as a society have not. Today I heard three stories from whites that negated black people. I did not let them pass. Nor should any of us--ever. Even in this time when leadership is fake, it's up to you and me--no matter what your skin color--to come together to make sure racism ends. I remain hopeful.
ReplyDeleteMichael, every good person ought to act on your advice, although it might require courage to do so in...Branson, Missouri...or in the area of Mississippi in which Ed Rogers lives, or at a protest circled by armed white militiamen....And to think that "our President" seems to encourage those armed white militiamen....
DeleteOur president, the man who made fake leadership a way of life--but unfortunately it's impacting on all of our lives as we speak--more and more negatively each and every day.
ReplyDeleteExcellent, to-the-point, punch-in-the gut poem. Good art elicits feelings; this one makes my stomach hurt! I remember hearing these speeches, sometimes live. Our folks would keep us up to hear King or a president speak, to see the moon landing, seeing that we observed history as it happened. The power in that man's voice was astounding. As for standing against racism, I found that spending weeks and months with no one BUT people of color around us, in the islands, was the kind of life-changing experience that literally allows you to just relax. I was so used to being my usual glib self, striking up conversations everywhere, that when I did it in Florida with blacks I think even they were surprised. I realized a tragic truth: we don't TALK to each other, and all it takes is someone to break the ice. Black lady my age (old) in the store; shaking our heads at the price of ox tail. We agreed it used to be cheap food. I said "I know what happened-us white folks found out how good it is." Good laugh. We TALKED. We even talked about race. And we laughed together; magic! That is where to stop racism. At he grocery, the post office, school, work anywhere. Just relax and talk to people.
ReplyDelete