The majority of my upbringing was in Enid, Oklahoma... a racially and economically segregated community. My exposure to ethnic variety was nil. We lived a mile or so from niggertown and never ventured close to it, although we roamed other parts of the town freely. The black community was entirely separated from the whites. We would occasionally see them uptown, but this was not frequent. They had their own schools, their own swimming pool, their own stores. There was one theater where they were allowed to sit in the balcony. I have an entirely separate story to tell of this theater, but that will be for another time...

One of the most influential people in my young life was my Aunt Rheaba. One of the most wonderful people that I've ever known, big-hearted and loving and one helluva cook. She was a housewife, and excelled in her role. For her, as for most women in her generation, a woman's place was in the kitchen.

The storm drainage system in Enid was rather pitiful. With heavy rains would come floods, mostly through the black part of town; Bogy Creek kinda separated niggertown from the white community, and served as a sewer as well as storm drainage. One spring morning I was over at Aunt Rheabas and she was reading the paper. She told me that there were two children drowned in Bogy Creek the previous day. She saw that I was upset, so she hugged me and said, "It's OK, Dougie, they was only niggerbabies anyway."

This incident upset me at the time, and it still does. Aunt Rea was the most loving person I knew; she was a staunch church-goer; and still she was compassionless to her fellow human beings if they were of a different skin color.

When I was in the seventh grade, we moved to Albuquerque, where I would see racism from a different side... as a minority.

The classes that I attended were about 80% hispanic, and I was the only "new" kid there. All of the other kids were bi-lingual, and that is a very effective way of shutting out strangers. Also, most of the kids were oriented toward violence as a way of establishing themselves in the hierarchy. I had always been able to avoid violence. Well, that would not be allowed here. Especially for the fat new white kid. I was a target, and a slow-moving one at that. I was regularly punched in the ribs and thumped on the head before, during, between and after classes. And I constantly refused to fight. This astonished and infuriated my agressors.

I finally broke while going home from school one day. Six mexican kids caught me in an arroyo while I was going home from school. They would each run by me and thump me on the head. I finally lashed out at one and caught him on the nose with a backhand.

Everyone froze.

The kids' nose was bleeding. He slowly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, looking at the blood.

He told me, "You're gonna die, white motherfucker."

Suddenly everybody moved at once. I was immediately pinioned; everyone took turns beating on me until I fell to the ground. Then everyone took turns kicking me. After what seemed to be an eternity, they got bored and left.

I laid there in the sand for a long while; I had sand in my eyes and my mouth and my nose. I was covered with sand and blood. I sat up and watched the blood run out of my nose into the sand, mixing with the tears. I hurt all over.

I finally limped home. I just told my mother that I had gotten beaten up. My brother offered to go find the kids that had done this to me, but I told him not to bother.

The next morning I went to school, and my first-hour teacher immediatly invited me to the principals' office. I had a black eye and cuts on my face and a very fat lip, and the principal wanted to know what happened. So I told him and named names. Soon I was facing my agressors in the office. They were made to apologize and promise to not beat up white kids anymore.

Soon after that, I transferred to a school that was 50% latino, 30% anglo and 20% black. This mixture was even more confusing, since there were constant alliances and changes in alliances, depending on what the racial makeup of the class or group was.

I could go on and on... but I won't.
What I learned from this was that it is almost impossible to change the way that a person is raised re:racial relations. I have tried really, really hard to overcome my ethnically-biased background, and I have been reasonable successful. Most of the time. There are still times and situations where I have to think about it, though. Go against my basest instincts, and realize that people are people, no matter what their skin color. It is very hard. It is very worthwhile. It is necessary to make the world a better place.

I can do this for myself. I can't do it for anybody else. I'm really sorry about that.