Memorial Day Conversations on Race

Conversations on Race

I’ve been promising comments about race and racism. I said I wanted to speak to my daughter and her family. This was my chance since we were with them in Philadelphia for Memorial Day.

I asked my daughter Beth, her (Black) husband Kelvin, their son Kenechi and his (white) girlfriend Mary, and their daughter Nkiru for their comments on race and racial incidents. I’m delighted to share some of our conversations on race.

The background is this: When I gave my book talks a couple of weeks ago, audience members asked about my experiences. “What was it like for you when you came to the U.S. with your mixed-race children?” Others said, “What were your children’s experiences?”

First I’ll share a comment on my experience. I came back to the U.S. as a refugee from the Biafran War in 1968 with two small children. I was not sure of what I would do until the war ended. I went to stay with my sister in Fort Thomas, KY.

She was married and lived in the house where we had grown up. After a week she said I had to move out. “Tommy is not comfortable having mixed-race children in his house,” she said.

I found a small apartment in town. When I brought the children to see it, the landlady said, “Oh, I’ve just rented it. So sorry!”

Today’s Conversations on Race – First Beth

When I asked for their comments, Beth spoke first. And a note – she grew up in Nigeria, as all three of our children did.

“I could write a book on my experiences about race in America! When I got to Mount Holyoke College freshman year in 1985, I was coming from a place where my bi-racial identity was very important. It was recognized by others as a separate entity. All of a sudden I was assumed to be a fully fledged African-American. But I knew nothing about African-American culture.

“I went to the pan-African students meeting. I sat there through the whole meeting not having a clue what everyone was so angry about. So I didn’t go back. I naturally gravitated to all the white activities, chamber choir, glee club, piano and singing. I didn’t join the Gospel Choir. I knew nothing about Gospel music. All my friends were white.

“Over the next years I wondered why the African-Americans didn’t speak to me. They looked at me with great disdain.

“It was Tara Roberts, my ‘little sister,’ who opened my eyes. (Mount Holyoke assigns a first-year student to a third-year, as a little sister. Tara is an African-American.)

“It took her months to get up the courage to ask me about this. ‘You seem perfectly nice,’ she said, ‘but all the other African-Americans say you’re not nice at all.’

“I told her they don’t seem to like me. She said, ‘That’s because they believe you think you are “better than.” I told Tara, ‘I’ll come to your meeting and I’ll tell people who I am.’

“So I did. I explained that I was from Africa. My background is totally different from yours.

“After that, they became civil. Not friends, but at least colleagues. Tara and I did become friends.

“After college, and for a long time, if someone treated me badly, I just assumed they’d had a bad day. It didn’t occur to me it was racism at work.

“I did begin to recognize it when I was a resident physician. But even then, I often dressed like an orderly instead of wearing my white coat and stethoscope. I wasn’t too surprised when nurses treated me like an orderly.

“One later incident does stand out. I was Assistant Professor at Harvard Medical School. I presented a paper at Dana Farber on my ovarian cancer research. The white professors – a roomful of them – were clearly surprised that I was not presenting work on racial disparities in healthcare!”

Kelvin and the Children

Kelvin looked at Beth. “We used to talk about race a lot. When we first met, and later when we married, I kept telling you, ‘Eventually they’re going to show you you’re Black. It was years before you recognized it. It was a slow creep for you.’ ”

Beth laughed. “You’re so right,” she said. “A slow creep!”

Kenechi said, “I had some of the same experience of people assuming I know and feel fully part of Black culture. And it’s really frustrating when it’s assumed that I can speak for all African-Americans.”

Mary said, “At Kenechi’s fraternity (at Cornell) they had a composite of all the students’ photos. They put the only two Black students’ pictures next to each other. It was odd. They could have thought more carefully not to do that.”

“The culture at the fraternity was not to be offended by racist things,” Kenechi said. “Sometimes they could go too far, and it would get somewhat tiresome. A couple of guys might have been coming from a place of actual racist feelings. But you would probably find that in any setting. It didn’t really bother me,” he said.

Nkiru thought about my question for a while. Then she said, “In middle school it was really hard. I didn’t know where I fit. (The schools in Bryn Mawr where they live are mostly white.)

“But now at Syracuse University I’ve found my people. All my friends are ‘white Blacks.’ ” I asked what she meant. “We’re all Black but we all went to schools like mine, mostly white. We’ve had the same experiences,” she said.

Do you have conversations on race to share?