COVID-19 Lockdown, Day 32
First, a shout-out to Kristen who posted a response to yesterday's post. I really appreciate it, and don't worry; I will not be stopped. In fact, I am going to tell you a story about a man just as stubborn as me (if not more): my father. He was born in Little Rock, Arkansas, and he spent a great deal of his childhood in Alexandria, Louisiana, during Jim Crow times.
During such times, to the White supremacist and the "good old boys", there were four types of African-Americans: a lazy nigra (to replace a more offensive word), a crazy nigra, an uppity nigra, and a good nigra. The lazy nigra hated working, and his spent his time gambling, drinking, getting high, fornicating, and generally "shucking and jiving." Though he sometimes got in trouble, he knew his place, and he never stepped out of line and never dreamed of anything better for himself. The good nigra did exactly as he was told, and he worked hard at the job he was allowed to have, and he was content with all he had. The White supremacist or someone simply ignorant would tell jokes at his expense, and he would laugh and declare the joke funny. The bigots were usually comfortable around him and treated him well as a reward for staying in his place. The uppity nigra was similar to the good nigra, except he strived for what he could get instead of what people thought he should have. He was educated, proper, and gallant. He was sometimes affluent, but he most likely was middle class. He was also a leader and representative for his community, speaking on their behalf very often. Those more educated and/or affluent than he respected him, those who were of equal position ignored him unless he became competition, and those of lower classes or less successful hated him--especially because they envied him. If the uppity nigra tried to aim too high, it was the lower classes who would rob him and/or lynch him. Then there was the crazy nigra. The crazy nigra was usually intelligent, if not formally educated. He hated how he was treated, and he was not afraid to show it. He talked back to White people, and he always looked everyone in the eye. He was always in trouble, and he would end up being constantly imprisoned or lynched. Otherwise, he could rally others to organize and defend themselves. The White supremacist would often joke about the crazy nigra, but in reality, he was afraid of him.
My father has been, for the most part, the crazy nigra in the eyes of the bigots. When he was 8 and went to the county courthouse with his aunt, he saw the sign about the water fountain that said "Whites Only." He knew how to read, and he knew what that sign meant. His aunt even told him to stay away from the fountain. Regardless, Dad was hardheaded, and he took a sip from the fountain anyway. His aunt caught him, pulled him outside, and made his hide glow. Still, that did not stop him. He still made sure that everyone knew he was not afraid and would not be deterred. A few years after that fountain incident, his uncle, back in Louisiana, pulled him out of bed early one morning, and took him to a wooded area where a crowd was growing. It was not long before he could see what the spectacle was. It was the corpse of a young African-American man who was hanging from a tree. His uncle wanted to show him what happens to crazy nigras who refuse to learn their place. Still, that did not stop Dad. In fact, it probably emboldened him. As a result, his uncle likely felt that the only way to make sure Dad did not hang next was to get him out of the South. So, he was sent to Chicago, which was better, but only if you stayed in your own neighborhood. By this time, however, certain parts of the city were starting to desegregate. In fact, Dad was one of the first African Americans to integrate Austin High School. Still, Dad was not content. He did not like how all students were required to take Humanities--a class that taught the origins of European civilization--while there were no classes that taught the history and cultures of Africa and the African Diaspora. He and other students went to the dean and asked that a course on African studies be offered. His logic was simple: if African-Americans were required to learn about European civilization, a course on African civilization should also be offered. When the dean refused to consider an African Studies class, Dad and his comrades orchestrated a "set-in" This meant that all participating African-American students would sit outside of each Humanities class.
So, you see, I have my Dad's hot blood. I am an Andrews, and that means I will not let anyone or anything stop me from doing what needs to be done. I will weather every storm, and I will get through another 30 days of lockdown. Yes, Governor Pritzker decided that, because of the constant positive diagnoses and deaths, the lockdown would be extended through the end of May. That means another month of masks, gloves, isolation, and no church. But, I will get through this, and so will we all. Here's to keeping our heads up.
--Signing off.
During such times, to the White supremacist and the "good old boys", there were four types of African-Americans: a lazy nigra (to replace a more offensive word), a crazy nigra, an uppity nigra, and a good nigra. The lazy nigra hated working, and his spent his time gambling, drinking, getting high, fornicating, and generally "shucking and jiving." Though he sometimes got in trouble, he knew his place, and he never stepped out of line and never dreamed of anything better for himself. The good nigra did exactly as he was told, and he worked hard at the job he was allowed to have, and he was content with all he had. The White supremacist or someone simply ignorant would tell jokes at his expense, and he would laugh and declare the joke funny. The bigots were usually comfortable around him and treated him well as a reward for staying in his place. The uppity nigra was similar to the good nigra, except he strived for what he could get instead of what people thought he should have. He was educated, proper, and gallant. He was sometimes affluent, but he most likely was middle class. He was also a leader and representative for his community, speaking on their behalf very often. Those more educated and/or affluent than he respected him, those who were of equal position ignored him unless he became competition, and those of lower classes or less successful hated him--especially because they envied him. If the uppity nigra tried to aim too high, it was the lower classes who would rob him and/or lynch him. Then there was the crazy nigra. The crazy nigra was usually intelligent, if not formally educated. He hated how he was treated, and he was not afraid to show it. He talked back to White people, and he always looked everyone in the eye. He was always in trouble, and he would end up being constantly imprisoned or lynched. Otherwise, he could rally others to organize and defend themselves. The White supremacist would often joke about the crazy nigra, but in reality, he was afraid of him.
My father has been, for the most part, the crazy nigra in the eyes of the bigots. When he was 8 and went to the county courthouse with his aunt, he saw the sign about the water fountain that said "Whites Only." He knew how to read, and he knew what that sign meant. His aunt even told him to stay away from the fountain. Regardless, Dad was hardheaded, and he took a sip from the fountain anyway. His aunt caught him, pulled him outside, and made his hide glow. Still, that did not stop him. He still made sure that everyone knew he was not afraid and would not be deterred. A few years after that fountain incident, his uncle, back in Louisiana, pulled him out of bed early one morning, and took him to a wooded area where a crowd was growing. It was not long before he could see what the spectacle was. It was the corpse of a young African-American man who was hanging from a tree. His uncle wanted to show him what happens to crazy nigras who refuse to learn their place. Still, that did not stop Dad. In fact, it probably emboldened him. As a result, his uncle likely felt that the only way to make sure Dad did not hang next was to get him out of the South. So, he was sent to Chicago, which was better, but only if you stayed in your own neighborhood. By this time, however, certain parts of the city were starting to desegregate. In fact, Dad was one of the first African Americans to integrate Austin High School. Still, Dad was not content. He did not like how all students were required to take Humanities--a class that taught the origins of European civilization--while there were no classes that taught the history and cultures of Africa and the African Diaspora. He and other students went to the dean and asked that a course on African studies be offered. His logic was simple: if African-Americans were required to learn about European civilization, a course on African civilization should also be offered. When the dean refused to consider an African Studies class, Dad and his comrades orchestrated a "set-in" This meant that all participating African-American students would sit outside of each Humanities class.
So, you see, I have my Dad's hot blood. I am an Andrews, and that means I will not let anyone or anything stop me from doing what needs to be done. I will weather every storm, and I will get through another 30 days of lockdown. Yes, Governor Pritzker decided that, because of the constant positive diagnoses and deaths, the lockdown would be extended through the end of May. That means another month of masks, gloves, isolation, and no church. But, I will get through this, and so will we all. Here's to keeping our heads up.
--Signing off.
Nice piece.
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