I like to remember Memphis during my youth as a very simple time. On a typical day I would get up at the crack of dawn to get dressed, eat breakfast, and walk to school. After school I would come home, eat my snack, do my homework, play with my friends outside, and if I was lucky enough I would get to watch a few episodes of my favorite television shows. One night, I was in our family room watching Star Trek when the television was interrupted by some shocking news that would change my world forever.
Before the news broadcast I felt like any other ordinary young black female. Looking back I can see how oblivious I was to the things that were going on around me. I was segregated, and because of this fact I did not experience racism like many did in Memphis. I went to an all black school. I lived in an all black neighborhood. I was aware of the existence of racism, but because of my seclusion I stayed unaware of how ugly racism was at that time. That ignorance, that unawareness, all changed on April 4, 1968.
My parents had been talking about this day for awhile. They were excited because Dr. King was coming to Memphis to do one of his famous speeches. They reluctantly decided not to go because it had snowed, and father didn't want to drive in the bad weather. That night as I was watching television, it switched over to the news where the broadcaster informed us all that Dr. King had been fatally shot. I sprinted with all my might to the kitchen where my Aunt Barbara, my Uncle Eugene, my mother, and my father were talking. When I was finally done catching my breath, I told them the man they were going to go see got shot. At first they laughed and told me not to say things like that, but because of my persistence they decided to check it out for themselves. Everyone stopped what they were doing and went into the family room where the news was still talking about Dr. King's assassination. Both my parents were in awe of this terrible information, and my entire family was in tears. It was the first time I had ever seen my father cry like he did. That night was terrifying. After word spread that Dr. King was shot people started rioting. There were soldiers everywhere, army tanks on my street, shops being burned, and complete fear and panic in everybody's hearts. That night I was sitting in my room thinking of everything that happened when my parents came in and explained everything thoroughly to me. I had never heard my parents talk negatively about white people the way they did that night. I remember helping mom with the dishes, and she whispered to herself I knew they were going to kill him. Those words were cemented into my head, and I knew exactly was she was talking about; white people killing Dr. King. The next few weeks are what the history books call Black Mondays. It made me sad to think what the world was turning into. Honestly, I thought the world was coming to an end, but the world did not come to an end.
The world was in pain. People were hurting, people were scared, and people were angry. The world needed healing, the world needed to change; however, in order to heal, in order to change, it had to get worse before it could get better. I could tell I had been scared by the words and actions of people around me. When I left for school in the morning, I could tell that I was not alone in my anger; everyone seemed to be on the verge of breaking. I didn't feel comfortable in the new environment I was living in, and I didn't know if I ever would. I really wanted things to go back to the way they were, but they weren't going to and today I am thankful for that.
There are still times I am scared to live in Memphis. There are still times I am saddened and disappointed in the words and actions of people in my hometown. However Memphis is healing and so am I ,and it is such a better place now than it was when I was ten years old.