Back Story

Hi, I'm Megan. Many of you reading probably already know me, probably already have a set idea of who you think I am, but I want to share just a piece of my story as it relates to another blog I just wrote about race.

I am a white woman, married to a gorgeous and godly black man, and together we have a beautiful caramel colored baby boy. So I am sure many of you noticed this. You may think this is why I think the way that I do on racial issues, but for me it started much much earlier.

I was born into a poor family, and as long as I can remember we were always struggling financially. Once, our story was even featured in the newspaper so people could donate things we needed to us like jackets and such. We weren't poor because we were lazy. My Dad, who is awesome by the way, worked his tail off everyday to provide for us, but he did it largely alone. A single father raising two girls. He worked hard, but it still was always hard.

We lived in Natomas when I was in elementary school and we went to daycare after school until my dad was off work. It was a pretty diverse area. I had two very best friends then, we were a little trio, we had lots of fun. One girl was Black, Ali, and one was Mexican, Raquel and me. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Except once when I went on a trip with Ali's family, who were all black. I noticed then, and I felt a little out of place, especially when people stared at us. I loved those girls and they were goody two shoes girls like me, we never got into much trouble.

Around this time I did start to notice and pay more attention to conversations I heard around my extended family. I heard a lot of negative things about black people from them. But even then, I didn't like what I heard. I went to school with and was close friends with many minorities and they never seemed anything like the kind of people that my family talked about. I would get angry every time I heard these conversations as I got older. I even began to get into arguments with them about how wrong it was.

Once, at a family gathering, two young boys who were black came to our door and asked if we wanted to buy newspapers to help support their sports team. I was shocked and disgusted as my uncle began to yell at them. Eventually he and his brother chased them down the street and out of the neighborhood. They then called the police and told them that the boys were casing the house (checking out to come back later and rob it). This was utterly false. Those boys did nothing. They just were going door to door trying to raise money for their team, But they were treated like criminals, these children. I shudder when I think of how they must have felt, and I pray no one ever treats my son that way.

Another time, my mom, who managed the office of a very well known Pediatrician in Sacramento, told me that the doctor told her she was not allowed to hire anyone who was black or anyone who was fat, because these people are lazy.  I was disgusted.

Many times as I grew up and began dating I would hear nasty comments, from strangers, and from friends, about who I chose to date, simply because of the color of their skin.

One guy I dated was pulled over and had his car searched. He was not cited for anything and when he asked the officer why he was pulled over and why his car was searched, he was given no answers.

Before I went on the first date with my now husband, I was excitedly showing everyone his picture (we were set up by a friend and talked before we met in person). One of my good friends (who still is, and is a lovely person) said that he looked like "just another ghetto black guy." Now let me say, this woman had never before and never after has done or said anything like this. But at that time, in that moment, that was her first thought. That is the culture we live in, that is what I am sure many people might have thought. But those of you who know Brian, know, he is a man of impeccable character. One who stands upright in all things. No one has ever treated me better. I have never respected a man as much as him, and many say this of him. He is well known for being an amazing man of God. But, simply by looking at his pictures, this is what my friend thought. And I do not doubt that even if they wouldn't say it, that it would be lots of people's first thoughts about many black men.

These are just a select few events that have stood out to me in my life. Some of these things are what led me to take a class at American River College called Minorities in America. This was an eye opening class. I wanted to better understand the racial issues in my country. I learned many things there but the one thing I never understood before I took it was white privilege. Now growing up poor and without a mom raising me, I never felt very privileged. But after learning what the daily lives are like for those who don't look like me, I got it. I saw the pain. I saw how it felt to over hear those conversations I used to overhear as a child. I saw how people were treated. I watched as one guy dressed in baggy jeans and a beanie went into a store and was ignored, and I saw when another guy wearing the exact same thing went into the same store later and was followed the entire time. I listened to the pain these things have caused people. And it changed me, forever.

In that class I learned that I could not stand by and just let these things happen. In not saying anything, and in not doing anything, I was saying it was OK, it was fine. But it is not fine. It is not OK. And I will say something. I will fight for this. I will do whatever is in my power to bring understanding. Even if people who don't understand will hate me for it.  And so my friends, it is with that, I have decided to take more action. I am starting a project that I hope will shed more light on this issue. And I will share more about that with you all soon :)