Prologue
I’ve travelled holding onto strong bridges in my life,
Bridges that helped me confront the vicissitudes of my young life,
Bridges made of strong and solid stuff,
That gave me the courage to go forward to reach for my dreams—
Without fear of falling prey to the odds against me.
I learned how to hold onto the strong bridges in my life,
Bridges made of strong and solid stuff.
What follows here is my story of growing up in the deep South, namely in Jackson, Mississippi, where, when I was born in the forties, civil rights were not a reality for Negroes
(as Black folk were called then). Actually, it is a miracle that I survived there until the age of
twenty-three, considering the circumstances of the times. When I think about my own innocence as a child growing up in Mississippi, it is appalling to me that children can be so innocent. It has been said by some people that “ignorance is bliss,” and maybe it is – until the child becomes wiser to the realities of life around her or him. Between the ages of one and six, I was rather oblivious to the fact that all people in my world were not counted equal, and all things were not right in that world. I learned, after awhile, that there was a color line of demarcation that determined what a Negro could do and what she or he could not do, where she or he was welcome and where she or he was not welcome.
Around the age of ten, my mother taught me how to go on errands for her in downtown Jackson. From this experience, I became wise to the blatant injustices prevalent in my world. Riding the city bus, I saw the sign hanging in the aisle of the bus. On the front of the sign was written “White,” and on the back of the sign was written “Colored,” thereby designating where White people were to sit and where Black people were to sit. Needless to say, there was less space in the back of the bus than there was in the front of the bus. When all seats in the front of the bus for Whites were taken, Blacks were expected to give up their seats to the Whites. When I was much older and a college student, I vividly recall taking the Gallatin Street bus home one day and deciding to take a seat in the front of the bus, just behind the White bus driver. I was the only one on the bus that day, and, when the driver told me to move, I refused.
With no witnesses around, I realized later that I had done a foolish thing. I had my own personal sit-in on a city bus in Jackson and never moved until I departed the bus at my stop. Anything could have happened to me on that day, and there wouldn’t have been any witnesses around to support me. Segregation was a way of life and disrespect for Negroes was common. The little Black Sambo statues positioned on the lawns of White folks’ homes symbolized the servitude status of Negro people and White folk’s perception of Negroes as inferior to White folk.
Somehow, with all of the obvious injustices in my southern world, I was determined to beat this southern system and defy the odds in ways unimagined. What a great day it was when the Civil Rights Act was passed in 1964, which was the outgrowth of the struggle of Blacks and non-Black supporters to end segregation! I thank God for Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr., Medgar Evers and others who led the fight for the equal rights of Negroes during the sixties. At the time, there was no doubt that segregation was the greatest obstacle
Designed to hinder the progress of Negro people. In today’s world where racism is often thought to be an ideology of the past, the reality of the matter is that remnants of racism are still around and new challenges have surfaced. Among these challenges that impact the quality of life for Blacks and other minorities in America are the high cost of a college education and too little financial aid; mediocrity in many public institutions – from elementary school to college—that causes many students to spend five years in college and exit with skills below national standards; and, for those students who succeed, too few jobs available. However, these challenges are surmountable, if one is willing to fight for her or his dream.
Being successful is a personal matter and a personal decision. At the end of high school, I was determined to go to college, even without the encouragement of my high school counselors and even with the knowledge that my mother could not afford to pay for my college education. Not only does my story recount my journey from high school to adulthood, my pursuit of education and my journey as a professor and administrator in higher education, but it recounts my spiritual journey into Christian ministry and the challenges to my call to serve in my church. My purpose in writing my story is to inspire others who stand on the brink of success, but are facing negative vibes from opposing forces. These must never lose sight of their purpose and determine within themselves to defy the odds and work hard to achieve purpose in life. That which looks insurmountable is surmountable with God. For me, strong faith in God sustained me through the good times and the bad times.
GJW