By Gloria Jackson-Nefertiti
In the early 1970s, my family and I moved to Portland, Oregon, from Mississippi. From the beginning of my time in Portland (October 1972) to the time that I left and moved to Seattle, Washington (June 1990), I would frequently find myself in situations where I’d be the only Black person: on the job, at events, in religious organizations, etc.
When Portland was still new to me, I was a junior in high school. And because I had always been extremely religious, I had gravitated toward a group called “Campus Crusade for Christ.” Of course, I would usually be the only Black person at their “Sing & Share” meetings held in the home of one of the students’ parents. Phil and Tanya, a married couple who were also Campus Crusade staff members and ran the meetings, would give me a ride home afterwards.
One day, another female staff member of Campus Crusade announced that she would be having a potluck social for the women/girls at her and her husband’s home. So I went to their home, thinking I would be attending the potluck. The only problem is that I went on the wrong day! So, there I was, a bowl of potato salad in hand. When Mary opened the door, she was a little bit shocked—partially because I was there on the wrong day, but I’m sure it was mostly because it didn’t occur to her, after she talked to me on the phone, that I was Black. I gave her the potato salad and then left. Our encounter seemed friendly enough to me.
The following week, after the “Sing & Share” meeting was over, I got a ride home from Phil and Tanya, as usual. As we were heading to my home, Tanya said that Mary called her after I left her home, and said, “I didn’t know she was Black!” And as Tanya was laughing, she just kept repeating that line: “And then, Mary said, ‘I didn’t know she was Black!’” After she said it for about the third or fourth time, her husband, Phil, put a stop to it, and said, “Tanya! That’s enough!” (Thankfully, Tanya apologized to me later.)
But now, as I remember this incident from 50+ years ago, something occurred to me: this was one of the few times in my life that someone actually stood up for me. Eventually, I just had to get used to advocating for myself. That’s because nobody else would. Today, I can’t imagine that anyone would just stand by and say nothing if someone spoke to me the way that Tanya did.
Gloria Jackson-Nefertiti is a writer, frequent podcast guest, panelist, workshop presenter, and artists’ model. She lives in Seattle, Washington, in the U.S.