Growing up black5/24/2023 ![]() In large part, my childhood years were wrapped in the warm cocoon of family and community who all knew each other and looked out for one another. On the bus ride to my all-black school, I watched white children walk to schools just two or three blocks from my house. ![]() I followed my mother to the back entrance of the doctor’s office, marked “colored.” I knew which water fountain I was supposed to drink from. When I was growing up in Louisiana in the 1950s and 1960s, the color lines were very clearly drawn. I did not have to be told much when I was your age. ![]() You think they’re being friendly, but when you tell me that one of their first questions is always, “Do you live around here?” I know that they question your right to be here, that somehow your being here threatens their sense of security. In a letter to her daughter, Maya, Delpit writes:Īs much as I think of you as my gift to the world, I am constantly made aware that there are those who see you otherwise.Īlthough you don’t realize it yet, it is solely because of your color that the police officers in our predominantly white neighborhood stop you to “talk” when you walk our dog. Although that time in history has passed, her experiences continue to shape Delpit’s views, including her hopes and fears for her child. Lisa Delpit is an educator who grew up in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, at a time when police officers patrolled the street that separated the city’s black and white residents.
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