Liberal profiler visited my blog to announce my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m white

Someone left a comment on my blog about the Zimmerman verdict claiming I had no right to an opinion because I was white, lived in a white community, yada yada.  I’m not an artist but I attend a lot of shows where I see the award winner needs my husband’s perspective class.  I’m not a doctor, but I can see the struggle my friend with ALS is having and know she was misdiagnosed for a long time.  I’m not an athlete, but I can see that many of them are suffering from celebrity morals and arrest records. This liberal profiler would have never told a black person she didn’t have a right to comment because Martin and Zimmerman were men, nor would she have even paid attention to the case if both had been black and I commented on it.

“. . . I find it interesting that you protest all things that would see TM as a young kid, but then you grew up in an all white neighborhood, went to an all white college and live in an all white area and attend an all white church. It is not surprising, I guess, that your all white blinders keep your bias firmly in place. You protest too much.”

But, she was wrong.  I have lived in an all-black (except for one house) community when I was 17 and in Brethren Volunteer Service in Fresno, California.  This was 1957, and I think most of the residents owned their own modest homes, and were probably second generation Californians whose parents and grandparents came as agricultural workers from the south during the Depression. (Remember, none of FDR’s work programs were for blacks.)  I didn’t know any teen-age boys who weren’t finishing high school, who weren’t well-dressed, polite and pleasant to be around. There were no gangs.   I didn’t see any girls or young women barely dressed—all were modest, wearing the full skirts, crinolines and flats of the 1950s even to come to the recreation center. I saw married couples, and three generation families, with babies who knew daddy would come home every night.  It was a quiet, pleasant community.  I heard no Ebonics, only southern accents.

 

Our four room house, very similar to others in the neighborhood.  We had a garden and there was a laundry room on the back with clothes line for drying close by. No air conditioning. Two bedrooms, one bathroom.  Four women and five men, the women cooked, the men did the outside work, and we all kept things clean.

The first home we bought in 1962  was in a mixed race, aging neighborhood, two blocks from the all-black area of Champaign, Illinois, which is why we could afford it ($14,000).  We rented half our double to a bi-racial couple, who were better renters than the white college girls, but still not as responsible as the Whittenbergs, a pastor and his grad student wife.  As for an all white college, nope, never attended one.  Profiling is such a headache for liberals.  Usually they are wrong.

Our duplex on White Street, Champaign, Illinois.