Immediately. Forever. In the Middle of the Night.

Tuesday was the anniversary of the 1969 assassination of Fred Hampton, the 21-year-old leader of the Chicago Black Panther Party. Fifty-four years ago, when I first saw the next morning’s Washington Post headline, I was instantly convinced that the Chicago police had done it, that they were lying about it and that they would getContinue reading “Immediately. Forever. In the Middle of the Night.”

The Wrongness of Being Black

Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash Over glasses of wine at a summery party, a bright, friendly woman asked about my memoir, White Wife/Blue Baby. She knew I’d married across the color line — the phrase “white wife” doesn’t leave much room for doubt. But she was unfamiliar with the phrase I’d used in the title’s other half. I toldContinue reading “The Wrongness of Being Black”

White Girl Mistakes: The Gun

The doorbell finally rang. I’d been waiting, hurt, while my entirely Midwestern baked chicken and Idaho potatoes dinner cooled in the kitchen. I was going to definitely tell Emmon how I felt. But when I swung the door open, he came in hurriedly with hunched shoulders and without meeting my eyes. Sitting on the edgeContinue reading “White Girl Mistakes: The Gun”

White Girl Mistakes #1

The Accident When I started dating across the color line in 1967, I was pretty sure that I could deal with Chicago racism. Losing my father to drink and being sexually assaulted by my pastor were probably my fault, so being disapproved of – well, so what? One night my boyfriend Emmon borrowed a car.Continue reading “White Girl Mistakes #1”