Today is my 59th birthday - wow! I thought it would be really cool to publish the second part of my story on such an auspicious occasion versus on the customary 4th. Notice that I am trying to skirt the fact that I missed an entire month of blogging. Ah, life. My life.
In the first part of this two-part series, I talked about the extreme lows of moving 3,000 miles away from home and it really wasn't a pretty read. But I didn't answer the question posed in the first paragraph of that blog. What brought me to Charlotte?
As I mentioned in the former blog, California is home. My father was stationed in the area twice and I had lived there, off and on, for most of my life. Aside from my grandparents’ home in Virginia, it is the environment that represents consistency and stability. At the time, I had siblings, nieces, nephews, my mother, friends, volunteer work, and political peers, and I was well known and trusted. If I can be perfectly honest, my name had a little clout. Why would anyone leave all of that behind?
California is a pretty diverse melting pot. Especially in areas like Los Angeles where more than 220 languages are spoken. In the Northern and Central part, we also embrace our relationships with other minorities in a major way. In 2014, 33.9 million residents were 46.6% white non-Hispanic, 32.3% Latino, 11.1% Asian American or Pacific Islander, 6.4% black non-Hispanic and about 1% Native American. Today, the Hispanic population is now the proud majority sitting at 38%, while the whites sit at 34%. Black people represent 5.9% out of 38 million people.
The diversity was something that I was always proud of, but the representation of and for black people was almost non-existent. On the first day of elementary school, I knew for a certainty that my oldest two children, who went to public school, were going to share that they had one or two other black kids in their classroom. When they reached middle school and attended high school, the stories were a little longer because they would share how many they had in each one of their classes but the numbers were still the same. I either heard, "i am the only one in...." or "there are two of us in...." - I became accustomed to the routine.
It was the same, obviously, in my adult life. There was a running joke among my peers about there being only one black person hired at each bank. Most of the circles that I moved in politically and otherwise were totally influenced by and run by Caucasian people. The makeup of the county was one that centered on a few "good ole boys" who made the major decisions for the rest of us.
Now lest I leave you with the idea that I was resolute and passive in my situation, let me hasten to tell you that I have always been an under-dog who relishes a good controversy. There are many organizations that I worked with and for to make sure that the underrepresented were heard. This blog isn't about my influence on my community, so I will not produce any receipts. As my late brother-in-law Ruben used to say, "the truth don't need no defense".
Many of these good ole boys were friends of mine, and some of them were associates. We would have a civil and sometimes heated discourse about the nature of the community. How minorities were perceived and the like. I admit that I often enjoyed antagonizing them because I knew that I knew what I knew. More importantly, I didn't figure that the Lord had me sit at the table just to ask for some crumbs. Sometimes there were phenomenal outcomes, and sometimes I was disappointed and stunned.
One of the organizations that I had been a member of since I was pregnant with my youngest, was the Business and Professional Women of Merced County. I loved those women and we had been to several conferences together and put on many fundraisers and events. At some point, I became the Vice President and was being groomed for the Presidency. I wasn't looking forward to it.
I also had been asked about seeking political office and was seriously considering it. One of my friend's husband was very connected and because of our relationship, I had done some work with the Senator. I also knew the Congressman quite well, and one of his aides and I were really close. God rest her soul. She was a "homie" - a latina and a firecracker. She lived in the hood and was proud of it.
During that same period, I started resenting the social invites where I was the only black person in the room. I started feeling like a fish out of water when I looked around at the familiar players. At this time, there was one other black person who used to be asked to sing at different functions in the area. I had heard her name come up in regard to a political seat as well. No disrespect to sistuh girl, but I was a little more engaged than she was so I always thought I had a better shot. At some point, I told those in my circle, that I would never run against another black person because I wouldn't divide our community that way. I would rather get behind her and help her win. I meant that. As a side note, she sang at my wedding reception - our first dance, as a matter of fact. She is a friend, and I admire her and all of her talents, greatly.
On one particular night, I was at a function that raised money for unwed mothers. It was a pretty posh event that was hosted by some associates yearly. The backyard, where the event was held, was 5x's larger than most houses. A woman ran up to me, clutched her pearls (literally) and said, "oh, I am so glad you finally arrived....now, where would you like to set up?" I had no idea what she was talking about and she could sense that so she said, "aren't you.....?"
You guessed it. She thought I was the black singer. I mean, after all, there is normally only ONE of us at an event and there I was.
For some reason, that was the day. It was the day that I no longer wanted to be affiliated with the groups, charity events, organizations, or the people. It was the day that I decided I would seriously talk to my husband about moving to a different part of the country where people looked like us and had influence and power.
I thought about how great it would be for my youngest to go to school in an environment where she saw people of color affecting change in her community. She knew about my altruism, and like her siblings, I had taken her with me to knock on doors and pass out information. But I wanted her to realize that I was not some strange phenomenon. What she saw and what she didn't get to experience came down to statistics and opportunity.
Like most of you, I have led a full and eventful life. I feel as if I could write at least 3 more series about this topic. The bottom line is that I moved from California to Charlotte for the very same reason that P Diddy is trying to dupe you into drinking Ciroc in his commercial - I did it for the culture.
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