Such things filled me with horror-but then with relief, even triumph. I learned of black lawyers working as office clerks, black classical musicians stuck orchestrating cheap stage revues, brilliant black professors trapped in threadbare segregated colleges I read of the Scottsboro Boys, Emmett Till, and the assassination of Martin Luther King. Later, she made sure I read accounts of black America before the civil rights movement. We watched Norman Lear sitcoms, so I’d learn from Archie Bunker and crew what blacks had faced in the past. When I was ten, my mother made me read Roots cover to cover, and she’d coax me to curl up beside her to watch old newsreels of black civil rights protesters being hosed, beaten, and dragged off to prison.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |