Dedicated to Amy the woman who opened my eyes and mind up to so many possibilities and experiences. I shall never forget them.
The year was 1961. Racism in the South was still heavily prevalent. Dr. King was working as hard as he could to help Blacks obtain equal status among white men & women. My family, on the other hand, was not. My deceased father was a staunch member of the KKK. Outspoken and raunchy, he would agitate any Black he saw. Although, he didn't see them as Blacks; he saw them as niggers. Obviously this form of thinking trickled down to my older brother Russ. While he was never a member of the KKK, he would join in anti-black protests and harass any Black family that moved into his neighborhood until they left.
My mother was different. She would never publicly address Blacks politely; especially in the presence of my father. However, she was never mean or rude to them, just seemingly indifferent. Her friends, both male and female, were also racist, yet she somehow overlooked the color of Blacks' skin and never encouraged race baiting in the house or at the dinner table. My father and brother never knew why my mother was so indifferent to Blacks. It sometimes frustrated my father, but he would never hit her or force her into anything she didn't truly want to do. Yet, I knew why, or at least had a big hunch, as to why my mother was comparatively nice to Blacks while my father wasn't.
About 13 years ago in May I was on my way home from school. Being 18 and being a senior, I was able to leave school a bit early. I came home to find my mother making love to a black man on the living room couch. I say it was making love because my mother would never curse, never use a slur. She would always use the term "making love" when talking about marriage. I wasn't particularly interested in hating Blacks. My father's hate speech never really sunk in. I guess the women of the Hart family stick together and view things the same way. Now don't get me wrong, I was completely shocked, angry, and somewhat curious. I was shocked and angry that my mother would cheat on my father; a man that truly loved her. I was curious because I was a virgin at the time and had never seen male genitalia in person before; since it was an Black's genitals, I was made even more curious. That was the only time I ever saw my mother with that man. I didn't know who the man was and frankly, I didn't want to. I spoke to my mother 6 ears ago about that day. She was a bit surprised, and ashamed about being caught, but she told me about the experience.
I won't go into too much detail about it. That is for my mother and her one-time lover to share for all eternity. She was able to recite the details to me as if it had happened yesterday. She assured me that was the only time she had ever slept with someone other than my father. Using the terms large, frantic, deep, and powerful, she described her love making sessions (and yes, she told me it was love making). She told me why she did it, and I commended her to the utmost and wished I could do the same. Oddly enough, I would get my opportunity to do so.
Well, back to 1961, as stated above, my father has passed on. My mother is still living in the same house. My brother is a business tycoon in a sense. I went to college. I got my degree in political law and made a run for a local office; surprisingly I won. Granted, the person I was running against died half way through and his party couldn't find a replacement, but I still won.
I guess it's true what they say about women marrying men that remind them of their father; I married a racist. I don't hate him for it, I love him, sure I'd like him to change, but I can't make him do anything. It wouldn't be fair to him. We have 2 children, an older son who's 8, Roy, and a daughter who's 4, Wendy. My husband is raising our son to be just like him, a racist. I do my best to curve it, and it has worked to some degree, but boy does Will have a control over Roy. Wendy sticks with me and follows nearly all of my foot steps. Weird how history repeats itself huh?
Dr. King came through our little town preaching freedom and equality. As a political figure I obviously had to make appearances here and there. Dr. King surely turned a lot of heads when he came through. Some of my advisors made mention of a big voter turn out in FAVOR of Black equality, de-segregation of schools, and more universal freedoms for them. I was intrigued and anxious to be one of the first politicians to jump on the bandwagon.
So what did I do? I went to Dr. King and other Black rallies and showed my support. I gave speeches, promoted, and shook hands with many people. One man in particular was a great visionary, Erikson Davis. He could talk his way out of almost anything. Erikson was about 10 years older than me. He had big, dark eyes. He was a giant in stature standing at least 6' 6," Erikson was a radical thinker in almost every sense of the term. There was no denying he was Black. I don't even know if the American portion of that is valid. He was dark as night, had an accent, and constantly spoke highly of Africa. My demure 5' 5" frame was dwarfed by him. He and his associates were hesitant at first, but grew to accept me in their meetings and rallies. I figured, if I could work within one of these organizations, I could put forth the best political statement possible.
My husband knew of my meddling, as he'd put it, and tried his best to end it. I fought back and was able to continue. We clashed on my topics and, as luck would have it, we actually led opposing rallies on the same day at least twice! There we were, in the same park, a married white couple pushing opposing views on Blacks. Will was surrounded by his fellow white males and females, while I surrounded myself with Black ralliers. And yet, at the end of the day, as much as we would lace into one another and eachother's views, we'd come home, eat dinner with the kids, make love at night, and sleep in the same bed.
Out of left field, however, that routine changed in an astonishing, yet completely brilliant way. Erikson and I had worked together a lot in the past few months. Long nights, even longer days. Our big push was that Blacks and white people are one-in-the-same. Sure, they had different skin color, but when it comes to skills, work ethic, and feelings, Blacks and whites are the same.
Erikson and I pushed this notion until it could be pushed no further, and we still didn't think it was doing enough. Black males continued to be scoffed at, prevented access to jobs, and limited in who they could date.
The dating issued always seemed to be Erikson's favorite to talk about; sex, sex, sex. Further proof all men are the same. Working with a strong, virile Black male had its advantages. Although I was married, the extra attention Erikson gave me definitely did not go unnoticed: the way he'd hug me longer than he'd hug others, his constant "I've got to squeeze by" type of moves, and his somewhat lazy eyes when it comes to my body. I was married, but these innocent happenings were OK with me.
Now it would be unfair for me to state that he was only the one notice the other person. I was around him so much I could help but notice him: his body, his mannerisms, and his overall demeanor. He was very pleasant to be around. He had some racist thoughts in his mind as well, but not to the degree of my husband. His body was the epitome of perfection: toned, tall, and looked rock hard. When I would hug him, I know I had squeezed a bit harder than normal. Maybe that's why he always hugged me for so long? One time he did one of his "squeeze by you" moves and I felt the shaft of his dick rub the back of my upper thigh and ass: I froze and let him pass just to get that innocent feel of it. We shared the occasional eye contact, but nothing that would be misconstrued as cheating or sex.
Our work was progressing and one day Erikson came to me with another of his radical ideas.
"You planning on having any more children Amy?" Erikson asked.
"Will and I weren't planning any. And we're so busy right now, we're not too concerned about one "surprising" us." I replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Now we've been working together for sometime, and we've hit a roadblock on how to send the biggest message to the people that my people are no different than your people," he said.
I agreed.
"Well, I was thinking, what if the 2 races integrated a member of each race into their own?" Erikson asked. "Then we could show to the people that we're all alike and share a natural bond."
I likened to the idea bit and asked, "What do yo mean by integrate?"
