Prejudice, Once Removed: The Larry Wasson Story
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
62 Stories For Cycle B
The gray-haired man cleared his throat and stood before the circle of his peers, gathered to share their stories.
"My story is a little bit different," he said, smiling at the woman who had just put an effectively humorous ending on her story. "It's a story of how insidiously easy it is to instill racial bias in the lives of people ... particularly young people."
His southern drawl eased into a quiet, soothing tone as he became comfortable with his tale. "I was born and raised in a little coal mining town in the foothills of the Ozarks in Arkansas. And one of the high points of the history of this little town, its sense of its importance, was a simple statement that floated around the community almost like an ambiance; and that statement was: 'No nigger ever stayed overnight in this town.'
"My parents didn't particularly promote that statement. They were neutral about it, and I thought that I was not affected by it. I thought that I was fairly free of any kind of prejudice. I grew up, went on to high school and college. In college, the janitor in our dormitory was a negro, liked and respected by everyone on campus, including me. So, I went on assuring myself that I was free of any kind of racial bias.
"After we married, my wife and I came to Milwaukee, and in due course, we became chairpersons of the Commission on Christian Social Concerns in our church. As a part of our responsibility to the commission, my wife suggested that maybe it would be a good idea for us to visit one of the African-American United Methodist churches in Milwaukee. I agreed to it without any major reservations.
"So, one Sunday morning we went down to one of the black neighborhoods. We parked our car and walked over to the church, about a block away. And I found myself struck by a tremendous sense of dread. It's nothing I can put a name to, even now. It was just a dread I felt of going into that church. It amazed me, because I still didn't think of myself as prejudiced. But if I had had any kind of excuse with which I could have saved face, I would have turned around and gone back home."
He shook his head, then, and rubbed his chin as if in disbelief, even yet, of those very real feelings. Then he smiled. "But my wife didn't let that happen! She took my arm and we went on into that church, where we were accepted like long-lost kinfolk.
"Well, that's the story of how I became aware of the fact that I had been tainted by the racism I grew up with: that I had carried around an internal bias that I had not even been conscious of. The blessing is that I got over it.
"Having a spotlight shone on something in yourself that you don't like is very helpful in taking steps to remedy it. One thing I did was to sing part-time in the negro church choir. Our church had two worship services, so it was easy for me to visit the African-American church and still attend my own congregation. And a few years later, my wife and I became members of the Board of Directors of Northcott Neighborhood House, just about four years after it was formed, and while it was in the process of trying to find its role in the African-American community in Milwaukee. We worked closely there, got well acquainted with many people, and one woman in particular became a close friend. She invited my wife and me to her home one week for Sunday dinner. And after dinner neighbors and friends came in and we had a delightful conversation. It wasn't until about 11:00, when the group broke up and we were getting in the car to go home, that I became conscious of the fact that my wife and I had been the only white people present.
"That's how much my prejudice had changed ... how nearly the racial bias had dissipated. I know in my heart that there's still a little of what I grew up with inside me, but I thank God that I've come so far toward getting over it."
____________
Author's note:
This is a true story printed by the permission of Larry Wasson, a former member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, who currently belongs to First United Methodist Church in West Allis, Wisconsin. Larry told this story at a retreat on storytelling which John led for the West Allis church in 1995.
"My story is a little bit different," he said, smiling at the woman who had just put an effectively humorous ending on her story. "It's a story of how insidiously easy it is to instill racial bias in the lives of people ... particularly young people."
His southern drawl eased into a quiet, soothing tone as he became comfortable with his tale. "I was born and raised in a little coal mining town in the foothills of the Ozarks in Arkansas. And one of the high points of the history of this little town, its sense of its importance, was a simple statement that floated around the community almost like an ambiance; and that statement was: 'No nigger ever stayed overnight in this town.'
"My parents didn't particularly promote that statement. They were neutral about it, and I thought that I was not affected by it. I thought that I was fairly free of any kind of prejudice. I grew up, went on to high school and college. In college, the janitor in our dormitory was a negro, liked and respected by everyone on campus, including me. So, I went on assuring myself that I was free of any kind of racial bias.
"After we married, my wife and I came to Milwaukee, and in due course, we became chairpersons of the Commission on Christian Social Concerns in our church. As a part of our responsibility to the commission, my wife suggested that maybe it would be a good idea for us to visit one of the African-American United Methodist churches in Milwaukee. I agreed to it without any major reservations.
"So, one Sunday morning we went down to one of the black neighborhoods. We parked our car and walked over to the church, about a block away. And I found myself struck by a tremendous sense of dread. It's nothing I can put a name to, even now. It was just a dread I felt of going into that church. It amazed me, because I still didn't think of myself as prejudiced. But if I had had any kind of excuse with which I could have saved face, I would have turned around and gone back home."
He shook his head, then, and rubbed his chin as if in disbelief, even yet, of those very real feelings. Then he smiled. "But my wife didn't let that happen! She took my arm and we went on into that church, where we were accepted like long-lost kinfolk.
"Well, that's the story of how I became aware of the fact that I had been tainted by the racism I grew up with: that I had carried around an internal bias that I had not even been conscious of. The blessing is that I got over it.
"Having a spotlight shone on something in yourself that you don't like is very helpful in taking steps to remedy it. One thing I did was to sing part-time in the negro church choir. Our church had two worship services, so it was easy for me to visit the African-American church and still attend my own congregation. And a few years later, my wife and I became members of the Board of Directors of Northcott Neighborhood House, just about four years after it was formed, and while it was in the process of trying to find its role in the African-American community in Milwaukee. We worked closely there, got well acquainted with many people, and one woman in particular became a close friend. She invited my wife and me to her home one week for Sunday dinner. And after dinner neighbors and friends came in and we had a delightful conversation. It wasn't until about 11:00, when the group broke up and we were getting in the car to go home, that I became conscious of the fact that my wife and I had been the only white people present.
"That's how much my prejudice had changed ... how nearly the racial bias had dissipated. I know in my heart that there's still a little of what I grew up with inside me, but I thank God that I've come so far toward getting over it."
____________
Author's note:
This is a true story printed by the permission of Larry Wasson, a former member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, who currently belongs to First United Methodist Church in West Allis, Wisconsin. Larry told this story at a retreat on storytelling which John led for the West Allis church in 1995.
