50 years

50 years ago, I was in the ninth grade of high school more worried about being popular and hopefully not picked on then most anything else. I had made it to the big time (high school) and knew that this was my chance to become cool or most likely end up as a fool. I had left the cozy comfort of my elementary school (K- thru 8th grade) and found my self in a huge monstrosity of a building filled with kids many similar to me, but many not so much the same. My goal was to acclimate as best I could at first, and then hopefully if I actually made it through my first semester in one piece accentuate the pieces of my life that permitted me to be unique. It was a struggle I thought I knew, but a battle taking insight and energy I was never quite sure I knew where to find. At the time I only knew of my struggle and was unaware of the world outside  of my own.

50 years ago the Civil Rights Act became law. There were populations of people who were referred to as Colored. They found themselves in cities and towns, rural and urban areas where the only thing that defined them was the color of their skin. It mattered not that these Colored people had similar human traits as the White folk, nor that these Colored people strove to live, love, laugh and learn like the White folk, or even that these Colored folk were American citizens just like the White folk; what mattered mainly was that due to the color of their skin an assumption was made that this group was inferior and thus must be treated differently.  The Constitution at the time was discarded and in place the law of the land depended on the selected words of a preferred Bible. 

It is 50 years later and I made it through high school with grit, gumption and a great deal of slight of hand. I found along those 50 years that no matter how I wanted to define myself others felt more comfortable in doing it for me. I often times had to fight back thinking that what I found to be the norm needed defense and defended. I often times was amazed that something like my religion caused consternation and my choice of whom to love and how to love a matter of national crisis. It is 50 years later and unlike my concern in high school focusing only on me, I realized that my actions or inactions my permission for others to set an agenda or define the culture have dire consequences. 50 years later and I see just how important the Civil Rights Act was not for just the Colored people but for all of us in America.

It is 50 years later and with the passing of decades of attempts to create fair and equal, freedom and justice it seems this nation has slipped backwards. 50 years later it is staggering to imagine that we are arguing about equal pay for equal work for women…equality in marriage for Lesbians and Gay…restrictions on health care and reproductive rights for the poor and females…undermining access to citizenship…limiting access to education, housing and jobs for people of color… creating a caste system between the have’s and the have nots. 50 years ago this nation looked in the mirror and said aloud and proud our reflection does not showcase the beauty but the ugly, we must change that image. 50 years later it seems we have found an old mirror and once again prefer to dwell upon some of its distortions. 50 years later and it seems that the Civil Rights Act is meaningless and instead a mean spirited malaise has taken hold. 50 years later and suddenly our achievements and successes  are becoming diminished and destroyed. 50 years later and we are still arguing about civil and human rights…unimaginable!