<p>When I was about 5 or 6, so maybe 1961, we drove from the state where we lived to SE Texas to visit relatives. We stopped at a gas station and I needed to use the restroom. There were three doors, Men, Women, and Colored. The word Colored was painted to look like vari-colored children’s blocks. I was intrigued - that bathroom had to be lots more fun than the standard restroom…I imagined pink potties and blue tile and green sinks and a rainbow of paper towels. I begged to use the Colored bathroom. My mother pinched my arm and hissed to be quiet. When we were back in the car she explained. I couldn’t get my mind around all of the implications for years after. </p>
<p>Stories like these-segregation stories happening LONG after it was illegal to segregate, should be required reading in school. I belonged to an online “mommy group” when my 14 yo was small and I was explaining how I was teaching her about black history, at least in a very basic way. The other moms insisted that it was all “ancient history” and had no need to be brought up to “confuse” our kids. Except that it was still going on in our lifetimes, long after it should have been happening.</p>
<p>I have a friend who is in his mid eighties now. He grew up in Mississippi, and was planning on attending OlMiss, with some of his friends. I dont remember if it was university administration, or what, but they paid for he & his friends to attend school elsewhere. Which they did.
But at the same time in Seattle, there were interracial couples at my moms high school.</p>
<p>I grew up in a small town in the rural south. I started school(first grade) in 1968. At that time all the schools in our county were segregated. The movie theater was also segregated. I always wanted to sit in the balcony but was told it was only for black people. A lot of my friends (including me) had mothers who worked and black women were hired to clean our homes and take care of the kids when we got home from school. She didn’t drive so my mother had to pick her up in the morning and take her home after work. The schools desegregated in 1970 when I entered 3rd grade. That’s when the first private school opened it’s doors in our county.</p>
<p>I’ve seen a children’s picture book, “Ruthie and the Green Book” and it was quite eye-opening about a certain part of segregation – the refusal of gas stations and motels to cater to African Americans who needed their service. In the story, a family from Detroit is visiting relatives in the South. They have to bring the green book with them to find out which gas stations, motels, and restaurants would be friendly. The green books were available at Esso stations. Amazing that this all went on, and not so long ago either.</p>
<p>I wonder if African Americans on CC are reading this thread, rolling their eyes and thinking “Well, DUH”!</p>
<p>greenwitch, I had the most fascinating conversation with a former Tuskeegee Airman once. He talked about driving to Seattle to work for Boeing shortly after WWII and how he had been told where he could stop for food and lodging. Some restaurants would not allow him in, but he was allowed to go in back and the black cooks would fix him a bag of food. And he often had to stay in private homes, especially in the Midwest, because no hotels would put him up. It was all done by word of mouth, like, “If you’re stopping in X town, here is where you want to go.” </p>
<p>I contrast that to my ex and I hopping in the car and just driving until we got tired, knowing that no matter where we stopped, we’d be served, get gas and find a nice hotel. It wasn’t even necessary to plan a thing. But blacks in the not-so-distant past did not have that luxury.</p>
<p>I remember green stamps that they gave out at Esso stations.
Thats really interesting, but I have to admit, growing up in the suburbs of Seattle during the '60’s, I wasnt really aware of the treatment blacks received outside of the horrible things I saw on the news in the south.</p>
<p>I do remember when my great aunt, who lived at the very end of Yesler, being scandalized that I found a neighbor child to play with. ( admittedly, I didnt tell her where I was going, I started out just taking a walk, and then when I found someone my own age to play with, I just went to their house)
My aunt never had children, and I was especially distractible, but I did have the impression that it didnt help my situation that my new friend was black.
I wasnt allowed to play with her on future visits, which was disappointing, as you can only explore a big old house so much. It was a interesting neighborhood though, especially compared to the suburbs.
In our neighborhood, I had black friends, and we each went to one anothers houses and nothing untoward was ever said, but after my father died, I was surprised to hear my mother say that she hoped I wasnt going to marry one of my boyfriends ( who was black)
That shocked me.
For one thing, it was a very casual dating relationship & I was only 17, but also because while I recognized that my grandparents didnt really have any black friends & referred to them as " colored", my parents did have black friends and I had no idea my mother would feel that way.</p>
<p>( she eventually changed her opinion thank goodness. My younger daughters best friend for many years was black and they both used to stay at my moms house overnight, cause her condo was right next to a park (& shopping), and had a pool.
Heck *my *best friend in grade school was Filipina, although I didnt stay overnight, although she had so many younger brothers & sisters I didnt really want to. I didnt like commotion)</p>