Small To Big and Old to New: My Experience
By Moria Hairston
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I come from a small town, Martinsville Virginia, where you either know everyone or everybody knows you. On top of this, being from a large and well-known family like I am makes it even easier for people to be familiar with me. My mother is a teacher at one of the three schools in my area, and my father is a preacher and a police officer. The high level of influence they have on my community means that I was and am held to a higher set of expectations. I have always had a spotlight on me analyzing every move I make, and this affected the way I was raised as well as the way I am today. Always cautious of this unsolicited and unavoidable attention, I was careful to avoid many of the same activities that other children my age freely enjoyed. In school, people knew me as a perfectionist. In church, people saw me as a sweet girl. This was the most difficult position to be in because I felt as if I had to be perfect and sometimes I was even told explicitly just that. Furthermore, my families’ faith in God was a very important aspect of my life and upbringing. All of these aspects combined really allow people to know who Moriah Hairston is, or at least who they perceive me to be.
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Still, I have always wanted to make a name for myself based on my accomplishments and my talents, not who I am related to. Basketball and playing the drums did exactly that. Our fans knew me because of who I was on the court and not because of my parents. Many would even say I had a different way of playing compared to their game style. I was a very stubborn player, as my coach would always tell me, but I was stubborn in a good way. I never gave up on anything and I set my teammates up for success. My stubbornness became a strength which allowed me to learn determination and compassion, as well as the importance of teamwork. In addition to playing basketball, many people also remembered me as the “drummer girl,” as I was one of only a few women around to play the drums. Even guests of my church, who had no preconceived notions of who I was, would say, “You can play them drums, girl!”
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Because I was well known in my town, I was accustomed to hearing its gossip. However, after the days of August 11th and 12th, there was only silence. I wanted to see what other people thought of the rally incident, but no one said anything to me. This was extremely discouraging because this place, The University of Virginia, was going to be my home for the next four years, and I wanted to hear the reactions of my community to an attack on its grounds. There were a number of things going through my mind, but the main one was:I am an African-American girl going to the same place where people just promoted white supremacy. How was I even supposed to feel? I knew it was going to be hard enough starting college in a new environment with so many different people from all different walks of life. Plus, being an African-American woman, I already knew that I was going to be one of the few, which was going to take some getting used to. Am I going to belong at the University of Virginia, was a question that I tried to keep out of my mind. This was even more difficult because I was reminded of it by other people, people who I thought would be surprised.
They were surprised, but in a different manner. Instead of coming straight out and saying, “Oh, you’re black and you are going to UVA,” it would be phrased more like a question. They would ask, “What college are you going to?” My response, of course, was, “UVA!” After a pause, and they would then ask, “Oh, are you going there to play basketball?” Now why in the world would I have to play basketball in order to go to UVA, is how I wanted to respond, instead I would answer politely, “No, I am not going to play basketball. I am going to UVA because it is a good school for my intended major and I was honored to be admitted.”
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Despite all of these things going through my mind, during the next few days after August 11th and 12th, I continued to watch the news or listen to the radio and hear how representatives from the “right” and the “left” responded to the rally. I learned that the primary goal of the rally was to “protest” the removal of the Robert E. Lee statue in Charlottesville off grounds. At this time, I didn’t understand why they were doing this, but I listened as conservatives repeated the phrases, “we can’t erase our history,” or, “the next statue you are going to want to take down is George Washington’s,” and even, “would you want Martin Luther King Jr.’s statue to be removed?” Then it came to mind why this Robert E. Lee statue was put up in the first place. I would understand their protest if the statue was really for southern pride, as they claimed; instead, it was placed there in the early 20th century along with dozens of similar statues across the country to remind blacks of segregation, intimidate them in an attempt to keep them away from traditionally white communities, and signify that they were inferior to whites. This made me feel awful because still, even in the year 2017, people don’t know their history or they choose to ignore the facts, all of which pointed to the conclusion that this statue was a representation of hate.
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The University of Virginia has been through many difficult situations, but this one was the most frightening for me. It was also very discouraging to hear our nation’s president say that there were violent people on both sides when only the counter protesters had a death to occur. The death could have been anyone because multiple people on the left were hurt and injured in an act of terror by a far right extremist. I could not fathom why the president of my country would essentially give the okay for these people to come into my future home and disrupt the peace in such a horrific manner.
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My parents didn’t say much about it, nor did the rest of my family. Of course, I wanted their opinion on it, but their silence suggested that they knew UVA was a great school in spite of these events. Then I began to remember some stories my dad told me and it started to become easier to accept that UVA was going to be my school even with horrific incident that had just occurred. I was already exposed to this type of hatred prior to my arrival at the university. In fact, when I was living with my father, KKK meetings were held above our house. My father, an African-American police officer, worked these meetings, monitoring them to document who was attending. During his time there, he gathered intelligence and made sure nothing got out of hand. He has even met with the Grand-Dragon of Virginia, who is the highest-ranking Klansman in the state. I can remember him telling me stories of how one young KKK member wanted to kill him. My father could see in this man’s eyes that he loathed my father’s presence. The KKK has even gone as far as to recruit students in my local high schools. As both a preacher and a police officer, my father had a duality to keep the peace and know what is truly right, giving me the heart to try to understand people. Through these two positions he knew they had misguided thoughts and they truly believed white people were superior to others.
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When dealing with people with this mindset, we always just kept our faith in God and just prayed for them. I understand that they were taught by someone before them to think and behave like this. However, it is hard to say they are just ignorant because I truly believe that you can only be ignorant once, after that it is pure racism. More importantly, life teaches us that you cannot change people, only God can. As a family we handle situations like these in a meaningful, peaceful way and, and I believe my school did that as well.
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The University of Virginia took the initiative in claiming the grounds back as their own. They made sure that the students who were coming in for the year of 2017 and 2018 would feel safe and secure. I remember the following weekend I arrived to Gibbons House on grounds, and the first thing I saw was someone interviewing a student on how they felt about the previous weekend. That time was the point where I realized that this was real. I began to feel a little more nervous than before. I can remember my first hall meeting. The main discussion was about August 11th and 12th. My hall mates were claiming that the previous week was not the representation of Charlottesville. They explained how this is really a compassionate community and anyone here for the Alt-Right Rally was not a part of it. It is hard to try to explain how I felt during this discussion being one of only two African-Americans and four other non-white ethnic people in the room. I was very uncomfortable and I could feel my face getting warm and turning red. I remember asking myself,“Is this really true? Is this really a school who will truly except me?”
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On August 22nd, I walked into my first college class, Cognitive Psychology. The first thing I can remember is being one of ten African American students in a 200-person class. My professor began class by simply saying, “The University of Virginia and the community of Charlottesville have recently had a bad weekend, but we are a community, and we will get through this together.” My second class of the day was French. I can remember walking 17 minutes to New Cabell and seeing only a few people who looked like me on the way. My French professor touched on the subject of the recent violence lightly. I can’t remember much that was said by her, but I know it was not enough to make me feel comfortable. The following day I went to my ENWR class and we briefly discussed the incident as well, but I again left feeling unsettled. It wasn’t until my next class, African-American history, that something changed. When I walked into the class room, I saw a tall, slim black woman with short hair at the front. It felt truly amazing to have a professor teaching a class who looked like me. The first thing she mentioned was the weekend of August 11th and 12th. I thought to myself: Again, I have to go through this short talk about this incident that isn’t going to make me feel better about being here. However, this was different. My professor put the subject into context of the class. She started by asking how we felt about the event and explaining why this happened. We began to discuss the statue’s purpose, before examining the 13th Amendment, which says, “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction” (Primary Documents in American History). Furthermore, we talked about the high rate of African-Americans being arrested and we concluded that this was a way that society was throwing them back into slavery.
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My African-American history class seemed to be the point where I really began to appreciate my school and what I was learning. Nothing was hidden in this class. We went over true history that many Americans don’t even know. These discussions helped me to understand more of why August 11th and 12th happened. I was enlightened. I saw my school in a different light, all because of my history class.
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After the semester ended, I was happy to know my true history. I was also ashamed that all throughout my life I was never taught any of this in my history classes. I truly believe that if everyone is given the opportunity to learn the full history of America, then we, as a country, can start making progress.
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Post-Racial America?
Many today believe that America has become a post-racial society, overcoming racial prejudice and discrimination in our values and institutions. However, Ta-Nehisi Coates and Junot Díaz, two powerful voices influencing the conversation on race relations in America today, would disagree. Furthermore, according to Coates, America will probably never fully attain this ideal society. As one examines American history, from slavery to the Civil Rights Movement, all the way to the present day, they will see that racism has always existed and played a dominant role. This paper will work with Coates’s and Díaz’s refutations of post-racial America to reveal a framework for what Americans should do in order to continue moving towards a true post-racial society.
In Ta-Nehisi Coates’s “Letter to my Son,” he speaks mainly to a black audience, and specifically to his son. Coates strongly emphasizes not letting America “take away” his body, almost begging for his son to remember his message: “Here is what I’d like for you to know: In America it is traditional to destroy the black body--it is heritage” (Coates 1). Furthermore, he asks his son to think about what the Gettysburg Address means for him, specifically remembering Lincoln’s famous assertion: “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth” (Lincoln). It is said that this is one of the most important speeches in American history because of its purpose to unify the United States (History.com). Specifically, Coates questions what Lincoln really meant by people. This concept of people, while poetic is, not inclusive of all; it does not include Coates, nor does it include his son. Furthermore, as an African-American woman, it does not include me. Although America was built by our black ancestors, our people are not the peopleLincoln referred to in his historic declaration. America’s racist history cannot be ignored or wished away, and the fact that most Americans have yet to fully come to terms with the impact of racial prejudice in the founding of our nation shows that this is still not a post-racial society.
As Coates writes this letter, he tells his son that he has to take care of his black body, specifically that he, “…must be responsible for the worst actions of other black bodies, which, somehow, will always be assigned to you. And you must be responsible for the bodies of the powerful -- the policeman who cracks you with a nightstick will quickly find his excuse in your furtive movements” (23). Coates’s message to his son is powerful because it showcases the unique set of rules that only black Americans must follow in an attempt to protect themselves from harm. His reference to police brutality is particularly astounding because police are the people who are supposed to protect our society, both as a whole and individually, and instead systemic racism in policing becomes a new form of destroying black bodies.
At the end of Coates’s letter, he tells a touching story of him and his son coming from the movie theater when his son was only five years old. As his son was coming off of an escalator, a white woman pushed him and cried out as if he had purposely touched her. Coates explains his complex response to this incident: “…there was the reaction of any parent when a stranger puts a hand on the body of their child. And there was my own insecurity in my ability to protect [my son’s] black body. And more: there was my sense that this woman was pulling rank... I was only aware that someone had invoked their right over the body of my son” (Coates 24). Doing what any parent would do in a similar situation, Coates confronted the woman who had assaulted his child. However, a white man spoke up and defended the woman, while making no effort to defend the child. Furthermore, a crowd of white people supported this man and the woman. Then the man went closer to Coates and began to get louder. Coates reacted by pushing the man away. The white man responded by threatening Coates and his son, saying, “‘I could have you arrested’” (Coates 25). At this point, Coates was full of emotion and did not care about his own wellbeing. All he wanted to do was protect his son, and when the white man told him he could have him arrested, Coates saw this as parallel to “I could take your body” (25). Coates has reflected on this story many times, and now he says that instead of protecting his son, he was putting him in danger:
‘I could have you arrested,’ he said. Which is to say: ‘one of your son’s earliest memories will be watching the men who sodomized Abner Louima and choked Anthony Baez cuff, club, tase, and break you.’ I had forgotten the rules, an error as dangerous on the Upper West Side of Baltimore. One must be without error out here. Walk in single file. Work quietly. Pack an extra No. 2 pencil. Make no mistakes. (25)
Coates says that even though he and his son are human just like everyone else, because they are black, they have to be perfect. Through this, one can see that if the story was with a little white boy, things would have been much different. It is impossible to truthfully say that America is a post-racial society when a parent’s ability to protect his child is threatened by the racial prejudice of others.
Coates lets his audience know repeatedly that in order to live their lives safely, they have to protect their bodies. The point here is if you are human, you are going to make mistakes. In order for America to have a post-racial society, this idea needs to apply to people of all races. If people of color have to be perfect in America to have a decent life, or if they are harshly punished for their mistakes while white Americans who make the same mistakes get off scot free, this is not yet a post-racial society.
As an African-American man, Coates sees a lot of violence and believes there is no hope for a truly “post-racial” America. These stories are so deep because they are personal testimonies from our time. Throughout this letter, Coates is afraid and worried that his son will be exposed to the same violence, leading him to conclude that it will be impossible for America to wholly change its views on the idea of a post-racial society. On the other hand, Junot Díaz says, in his interview with Bill Moyers, we have to put in work in order to create a post-racial society. He says, “there is an enormous gap between the way the country presents itself and imagines itself and projects itself and the reality of this country” (Díaz). In the eyes of Díaz, it is necessary to have the conversation about race; however, it is difficult for America to have this conversation. Díaz doubts that we are at a stage where we are able to collectively talk about race. Still, he does believe that America can think about the issue in a complex manner. He continues saying, “we’re also at a place where if anybody mentions race or somebody brings up white supremacy they’ll also be attacked” (Díaz). Díaz further explains that many people believe that a post-racial society has already been achieved in America because of the election of our first black president in 2008 and his reelection in 2012. He tells us that one cannot view this as evidence of having a post-racial society because that is only one man. Instead, society must ask about the black community as a whole. Díaz comments on this perfectly:
The election of one person doesn't speak to larger issues, I think, the way that people would like it to. We have to address always not what happens to one individual, but what is happening to communities. The individual, hey, the individual you could get a woman elect her to this office. And the majority of women are not getting these kinds of jobs. You can have a Will Smith who's, you know, headlining Hollywood films. And yet, African American actors are utterly underemployed in every other area. And for me, I think that the focus on the individuals allows people to distort what's really, really happening.
If American society is comfortable with a few people from these communities succeeding, then they are ignoring the greater plight of the black community. If Americans truly want to achieve a post-racial society, they cannot be satisfied with the success of only a few black individuals, but instead they must advocate for the prosperity of the black community as a whole by addressing the racial prejudice that still exists, even if most would rather ignore it.
Díaz continues to talk about the irony of America’s post-racial society. Despite the fact that collectively, our society has largely avoided talking about race, white people feel as if they can claim that “‘now we’re post-racial’” (Díaz). Furthermore, Díaz asks predicting questions: "Are we ever going to get a candidate who’s so clearly, openly against these communities like Romney? I mean, no matter what Romney sort of spoke out of the corner of his mouth, folks voted against him because they knew that him and his party were dead set against them... Now will it ever be this clear again? Will folks feel that this one candidate is against all of them?”
Forwarding to present day, our country must ask retrospectively if such open bigotry was actually clear? Although Diaz and many others saw the hidden prejudice clearly and spoke up in warning, our society has continued to turn a blind, especially during the election of Donald Trump. So, what does this say about America? This tells us directly that our country is not a post-racial society; after all, President Trump is clearly against these communities. America cannot put someone in charge of the country who is not post-racial themselves if we want to say we are “post-racial” America.
Another of Diaz’s ideas is interesting because it outlines one step for America to become closer to a post-racial society by encouraging people to not have or draw conclusions about others just because of their obvious differences. "Saying a distinction is different from drawing a conclusion from that distinction. And I think it's okay for us to be able to talk and say, ‘I’m a person of color. This is a person who's white.’ And that's not a bad thing. It's saying that that means something, that that somehow is deterministic. That's the problem. That's the real problem" (Díaz)
These distinctions should not be a person's entitlement. Díaz uses a comparison saying that just because someone does not have any hands, it does not mean they should not have a job. People cannot help or control what makes them different, and if these differences, especially race, determine what one can or cannot do, there is likely a larger societal issue that must be addressed. In a post-racial society, the differences between races will still be visible, but they will be celebrated instead of used as a tool to discriminate. It’s not a bad thing to notice that someone is black, in fact it is impossible not to unless you are blind, but it is detrimental to treat someone differently because of their race, whether as an individual engaging in micro-aggressions or as a society enforcing prejudice on a systemic level.
All in all, I believe that these two authors are very much in agreement to say that America does not have the post-racial society that some people believe it does. Furthermore, Coates and Díaz have the same solution to this shortcoming: have the difficult conversations often avoided and talk about race. Although Coates does not come out and specifically say to have these conversations, and although he sees very little hope for the dream of America’s post-racial society, he still does something; he writes. He is still contributing to the conversation that we as Americans desperately need to have by showing the issue from his own perspective. And although he writes to the black community, people from all walks of life are influenced by his writings as well.
In conclusion, in order to have a post-racial society we have to combine Coates’s and Díaz’s ideas. America must read somber narratives, especially those on the angrier side of the spectrum like Coates’s piece. We have to get a sense of what other people like Coates go through every day and respond by talking about it in our own communities. Have the conversation. That is the only way for America to move forward. No matter our differences or beliefs, we must continue to be in conversation with each other.
Author’s Note
I am writing this essay to be in conversation with the idea of a post-racial society. My purpose for this essay is to show people that this society does not exist; however, there are steps that can be taken to attain this society. I am coming to terms with Ta-Nehisi Coates’s “Letter to My Son” and Junot Díaz’s interview with Bill Moyers. I am using these texts to show what these two authors think about our society that is so called “post-racial.” It was difficult at first to try and figure out exactly what I wanted to do with these two texts because they both say a great deal of information that I feel people need to know. The conversations I had with my friends and Professor Kate helped me understand what I was doing with Coates and Díaz. After these conversations, I realized that I was forwarding the conversation and taking an approach by stating what steps should be taken in order to have this post-racial society. It was challenging to show what exactly Coates wants us to do about this situation because compared to Díaz he has experienced a lot more racial violence; therefore, it is hard for him to believe that America will reach this society. Whereas, Díaz says that we just need to be in conversation as a country in order to reach this society.
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