My Personal Experience with Black History
A lesson in overcoming ignorance and prejudice in my heart

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I vividly remember my first interaction with an African-American. I was 10 years old, in the 4th grade, living in Seattle Washington with my family of origin. We had moved from Chula Vista, Ca to Seattle, Washington due to my father's field of work. Although I had experienced the Hispanic as well as the Asian cultures in Chula Vista, I had not yet come into contact with an African American. I remember the day as if it were yesterday.

It was a Saturday and my neighborhood friend had asked me to go to the school playground for a while. We each filled our thermoses with water and headed out the door to the school playground. But to my surprise, there was another girl joining us. She was much younger than me and quite different. She was 7 years old, her name was Kristan, and she was "Black!"

I remember feeling shocked that my neighborhood friend had invited her. My friend then introduced her to me as the new girl who had moved in across the street. My day was getting worse and my shock was increasing. I also could not reconcile the fact that I had just met the mother of the new neighbors who had moved in across the street, and she was white - like me. "How can this be?" I thought to myself. "How could a white person love a black person?" To this day, I can remember all these quite uncomfortable feelings and thoughts running through me, even though I did not say anything.

We continued to walk to the school playground and began to play on the play equipment. I remember being careful not to touch anything Kristan touched. My Grandmother's words kept ringing in my ears like an urgent warning bell, "How can anyone even kiss those people? Disgusting!" And even though I knew I wasn't allowed to say "that word," which was only for grown ups to say, my Dad's comments about those "Niggers" came to the forefront of my mind. With all of these angry thoughts and repulsive feelings going on within me I steered clear of Kristan as much as possible.

But soon came the defining moment of my life. The question I was soon to be asked was about to awaken my conscience to the monster within me. We had stopped to take a break from playing in order to get a drink from our thermoses. As we sat down together, it became noticeable to all three of us that Kristan had forgotten to bring her thermos. Just as I was thinking to myself, "There ain't no way her big black lips are going to touch my thermos cap," Kristan asked very politely, "Can I have a drink?"

It was if the playground got very large around me and I began to feel like Alice in Wonderland, shrinking down to a miniature size. I felt dizzy, nervous and all eyes were on me. "Um, I don't know...well, I don't....... You see....well, no, I'm sorry, but no!" My friend was shocked.  Horrified at my answer, she quickly offered Kristan her thermos cup filled with fresh water. I on the other hand, wished I could take it all back. All of it. I was consumed with my ugliness. I was ashamed, embarrassed and confused. Why did I feel this way? I did not know. All I knew is that I wanted to be more like my friend and less like myself at that moment. But sadly, I did not offer my water to Kristan that day. I quickly put it away so that I would not be asked again.

Looking back, I had no idea how defining that moment was for me. To this day, I remember Kristan's name, her hair, her face. Interestingly, I cannot remember my other friend's name. She was just another playmate in my childhood past, but Kristan was a person who had penetrated my heart in a profound and life changing way. It was the moment in which all of my presuppositions about people were challenged. Even more, it was the moment, for the first time in my life, I did not like who I had become. From that point on I began to work to fight against this inner prejudice, this ugly monster I had somehow inherited from my father and grandmother whom I loved and admired very much.  For the first time, I wanted to be different than those whom I had always looked up to. And God began a new and good work in me. Today, African people are my favorite people on earth. To God be the glory for his grace, conviction and transforming love.

-Marilyn Williams

(Note from author: It is not my aim to offend anyone other than myself! I have chosen to use the language I have written in this article to best express the ignorance and evil that once contaminated my heart. I pray it will help to illuminate the darkness that remains in all of us. We have come far in this issue, but we have much farther to go.)