Wednesday, August 18, 2021

The tarnished emotions of the children of public school intergration teaches vaulable lessons

Janice Mack Guess and her two sisters bravely integrated Durham’s Brogden Middle School shortly after James Chaney, Michael Schwerner and Andrew Goodman were tortured and murdered by Klansmen in Neshoba County, Mississippi. They were among the 16 Black students who walked into what felt like enemy territory after the turbulent summer of 1964.

Guess’s father, Rev. Benjamin Alexander Mack, was the circuit minister for the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Central Conference before being called to serve as pastor of Durham’s Morehead Avenue Baptist Church in 1967. Her father participated in protest at Durham’s Howard Johnson’s Hotel. Guess remembers witnessing more than 500 Black people congregate on the parking lot of the hotel, Sunday after Sunday, for months of a different type of worship service.

Being called to do God’s work was deeply embedded into Guess’s understanding as the child of a Black religious leader, but she was too young to fully understand what it meant to participate in a history making decision. Her mother and father were parents to two sets of twins. Guess entered the 7th grade with Joyce, her twin sister and Jennifer, her older sister who was held back a grade.

Guess recounts her story in Little Colored Girls Want to Wear Pearls Too, her memoir published in 2013.

Guess says she didn’t think much about entering middle school until that hot summer. With everything in the news, agitation and fear mounted leading up to the first day of school.

“We could have used more training about what we had to face because we had never been around white children,” Guess said.  “We stayed in our communities and even though we lived in Walltown and just a block from were white people lived, and a block from Duke University women's campus, we didn't know what to expect.”

Guess says the Black students were placed in an environment without the support of Black people.

 “They did not prepare us with any kind of orientation about what to expect,” Guess said. “You know they wouldn't do that nowadays. They dropped us off at the school and people turned around and looked at us and we heard people say, ‘what them niggers doing here?’ Even the teachers had looks on their faces when they went to lunch while white students threw food down the table in the cafeteria.”

Guess says the gym teacher ordered Black students to walk around the track while white students played volleyball or other activities. The only Black people she saw was the janitor and the people who worked in the cafeteria. She says things got better after a few weeks, but there was a feeling that never went away.

“It was like we were invisible,” Guess says. “People call you nigger. They whisper things. It was a lot to deal with. We were 12-years old.  We just thought it was a way of life. They weren't kind at all.  I wondered what made people so mean. Everywhere you look you just got rolling eyes.”

She says the Black students believed the way they were treated was a normal way of life. Black students were taught lessons on how to behave in a white world, how to act while in your parent’s house and what is required to remain safe. Black students weren’t given any counter instructions aimed at helping them adjust in a hostile environment.

The experience taught an unintended and troubling lesson.

“I’ve never trusted white people. Even though every job I’ve had was opening doors for other Black people,” Guess said. “Our generation opened a lot of doors, but I don’t trust white people. I’ve never had a white friend. I’ve never allowed a white person in my house.”

Guess retired after decades of service at Burroughs Welcome, a pharmaceutical company that merged with Glaxo in 1995. She says her work as a trailblazer involved looking out for and protecting other Black people. She says the vice president of Burroughs Welcome often recognized her job performance.

“The vice president of Burroughs Welcome was very good to me. I was a good employee,” Guess said. “I think I'd say that it's living with the consequences of being treated the way you were treated. When you have a child.  When you hurt children - children live with pain of being hurt by white people.”

The parents of Stanley Vickers fought two years for him to attend Chapel Hill-Carrboro white public schools. In 1959, when Vickers was 10-years old, he was denied admission because he’s Black. On August 4, 1961, Judge Edwin Stanley, in an appeal led by future Associate Justice of the Supreme Court Thurgood Marshall, overturned the school board’s ruling.

During the August 10 Chapel Hill-Carrboro Public Schools board meeting, current board members honored the 60th anniversary of Vickers entering Chapel Hill High School. Vickers shared his recollection of those first days in an integrated school.

“There were people who were curious about me more than anything, and then I had people who were just openly hostile,” Vickers said.” I had lunch by myself, I had gym by myself. To some, I’m an anomaly, to others I am a threat, to others I am something less than human.”

Vickers and Guess hold internal scars related to leaving the security of an all-Black school.  They are trailblazers in a community quest in promoting equality and equity in public school education. They were supported by parents and faithful Black people. They were missionaries set into heated battles to undo the grip of white supremacy.

They are symbols of Black pride and courage. More than that, they were children thrust into the fight about grown folks’ business.

More than 60 years has passed since Black children entered school systems managed by white people. Many Black children did well academically. Many graduated from integrated schools before becoming successful in assimilated work settings. We measure the success of integration based on lists of who’s who and what they have achieved.

What about the emotions of the children?

How are they doing?

 -----------------------------------------

Rev-elution offers independent, local Black journalism for residents in Durham, North Carolina and reflections of faith in public space. Support Rev-elution by contributing at: Cash App, $CMizzou, or Venmo, @Carl-Kenney-1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment