From Babyboomer Mom to Anti-Racist Activist
My Mom, Mary, is one of the most young at heart, curious people I know.
She’s a hard worker, always walking the walk and living her Christian faith. She’s a behind the scenes miracle worker, handling logistics and organizing things, and somehow always managing to avoid the spotlight or public eye.
Mary was born and raised in a first generation Italian-American, conservative Catholic home, in 1950’s Baltimore.
Her childhood was spent in a middle class suburban neighborhood known for being white — in fact the neighborhood covenant prevented homeowners from selling to Black families. Her parents evidently weren’t aware of this because she remembers her parents saying, “I’m not sure why, but for some reason colored people don’t move here.” They were happy about this, concerned that their home value would decrease and the neighborhood would “go down”. While her parents had generous hearts and treated Black people kindly, there was always an understanding that being white was somehow better. Interracial marriage was completely out of the question.
She was in her teens during the civil rights movement. She describes herself as a hippy because she had long hair, listened to rock music and watched her friends smoke pot. However in reality she spent most of her time within a few miles of their ‘safe white neighborhood’ with minimal exposure to what was happening on a national level.
Mom homeschooled my brother and I, which really means she retaught herself in order to teach us. She took the approach that is now called, “Delight Directed Learning,” which allowed our interests to guide our studies. We learned a little about the civil rights movement but never went deep. We spent years creatively exploring Florida history through museums, field trips and real life experiences, but our exposure to racism and civil rights was limited to textbooks.
In my 20s as I came into my own, I shared an office with an amazing older Black woman in Cincinnati and began to be curious about the history of racism in our country. Guess who was right here with me? In her 50s, my Mom took on the studies with me. We read books together, watched documentaries, shared YouTube videos. We even took a road trip along the Mississippi Delta to explore several sites that were critical to the movement, and went to the MLK museum in Memphis.
Through this journey, Mom began to slowly expand her understanding of history, but it didn’t make its way into her experience of the world. It was informational, but was about the past and didn’t change how she saw her present or considered the future.
But things started to change as a friend she served with at church began sharing her experiences of being black. The events of 2020 — the killing of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor — paired with the unbalanced impact COVID-19 on Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities has caused Mom to make the connection between history and the current problems.
Over the past several months, she has entrenched herself in learning in a whole new way, and the impact has been noticeable. She’s feeling it. She’s moving through the stages of anger, shame, grief and helplessness. The part that I am particularly proud of is that she is turning it into action.
My 68 year old, retired, Republican, conservative, Sunday school teacher of a mom is becoming a human rights activist.
She’s digging deep to learn about the causes of systemic racism (including the role of the Christian church). She has had in-person, uncomfortable conversations with her friends of color — asking to listen. She has written letters to church leaders, encouraging them to step up.
Because she looks back and wishes she knew all this sooner, she is hosting an ongoing discussion group for white, Christian women to facilitate conversations about things like implicit bias, redlining and the wealth gap. She’s leading and in the spotlight, even though this is not her comfort zone.
I share this in part because I’m really proud of my Mom, yes. However, the primary reason I share this with her permission, is because I find it inspiring and I thought you might too.
I have had many conversations with activist friends who feel like there is no hope. Like there are too many Baby Boomers, too many ‘old folks’, too many white people, with blinders on. Like no change is possible.
I want to share with you just one story of hope. If my mom can change, if my mom can step up to be a PART OF the change — there is still hope.
Mom’s discussion group was called Pursuing Justice. The discussions themselves are private to create a safe space. If you’re interested in joining one you can join the waitlist to be notified the next time she hosts.
My Dad was raised with Southern values and has had his own journey toward anti-racism which is chronicled here.
