Lessons Learned Along the Way
I come from a family of four children. I’m the oldest; my sister a year younger; one of my brothers was born 10 years after I was born; and finally our youngest brother was born when I was 18.
My sister and I, being closer in age, share more of our past than we share with our brothers. She and I were both born in the Bronx, in New York City, and were raised primarily in the projects there. During our teen years we lived and went to school across the East River in Queens. Both brothers were raised in California under very different conditions than the ones my sister and I experienced.
Here is one such experience. . . .
When we were in grade school, my sister’s teacher selected her to understudy for the main character in the class play which was to be performed in the school auditorium for the entire school and their parents. She was really excited about the opportunity to fill in for the lead even though she knew the odds of actually filling in for the lead were not in her favor.
My mother, however, was not pleased in the least about the teacher’s decision. Even though forty years have passed and I can still remember my mother’s lack of enthusiasm and outright anger when my sister shared that she was going to be the understudy. Nevertheless, my sister didn’t let my mother’s lack of enthusiasm put a dampener on her zeal. Truth is, neither my sister nor I understood why my mother was so upset.
In the months and weeks leading up to the performance, my sister’s excitement didn’t wane. She studied for several hours a day, rehearsing and memorizing. It got to be a bit much for the rest of the family but she successfully memorized all of her lines way in advance of the date of the performance.
And after memorizing her lines — which was her responsibility as the understudy — she went on to commit to memory the rest of the play eventually learning the entire script. We — my mother and I — were so impressed with her. I remember my sister reciting every word of that play. She was amazing.
Anyway, when the big night arrived, my parents went to the school auditorium to see the performance. They had to go anyway to take my sister who had to sit in the wings in case she was needed to fill in as the understudy, otherwise, they probably would have opted out. When they came home that evening I clearly remember my mother being upset. Well, she was more than upset, she was fuming!
Apparently, the girl who starred in the leading role had failed to memorize any of her lines. The child couldn’t recite a single word of the script!
So how did the teacher solve this problem? The teacher let the little girl READ her part, script in hand, for the entire performance!
I’m an adult now with grown children of my own. I’ve been to my share of my kids’ performances in concerts, plays etc. And, to be honest, these events are only the slightest bit entertaining when it’s your own kid you’re watching. Imagine how tedious this performance must have been for my parents and, frankly, everyone else. Of course this ruined the play.
When it was over, my mother went to the teacher and asked why she hadn’t used the understudy, surely the teacher knew– before the performance– that the star didn’t know her lines. The teacher’s response was that she didn’t think the understudy knew the lines either!
I tell this story to illustrate a point. The teacher, when responding to my mother, was either telling the truth or lying — either way, the picture this story paints is all too familiar to blacks. At the beginning of this story I mentioned that neither my sister nor I understood my mother’s irritation when she learned that my sister was given the role of understudy.
This single experience didn’t alter the way my sister felt about her teacher, nor should it have. She still admired her. At this point in our lives, my sister and I had little to no awareness of racial discrimination. We could not see the situation through the same lens my mother saw it through. But, in time, after encountering similar scenarios at what would appear to be an unusually frequent basis, we began to see things differently.
This happened in the 60s. The teacher and the young star were white. My sister was (is) black. Although my sister reminded me recently that she never demonstrated to the teacher that she knew all of the lines, it seems to me that by selecting an understudy, it was incumbant upon the teacher to find out what the understudy had studied.
Unfortunately for everyone, we’ve seen this type of thing happen all too frequently. I say it’s unfortunate for everyone because like the audience that had to sit through that dreadful performance, everyone is impacted.
Employers’ bottom lines are negatively impacted when the best person for the job is simply overlooked while a less competent (and sometimes incompetent) candidate is selected. The ranks of the underemployed are replete with unnoticed talent. Underutilized human resources abound in industry as well as in government. The list can go on and on but the point is society pays and the cost is immeasurable.
I wrote about the “Bradley Effect” a couple of weeks ago. Truth is, I desperately hope this country chooses wisely and doesn’t do what I’ve seen done countless times in my own life. People become blind to their own biases and make decisions that are not in their best interest or they see others doing so and don’t bring it to their attention. It’s a mistake we all have made. But the stakes, this time, are higher than ever. We, as a nation, cannot continue on the same path we’ve been on for the past seven years without it costing us dearly. It’s time to move away from all of the isms — racism, sexism, ageism, etc. The future of our country depends on it.
by Sharon Kyle
Sharon Kyle is the Publisher of the LA Progressive. With her husband Dick, she publishes several other print and online newsletters on political and social justice issues.
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very good article