A risk that worked: Talking about race head-on with neighbors

“I was in seventh grade when my parents took me to St. Augustine, Florida,” recounts my 87-year-old neighbor, Ann. “We stopped at a park, and I went to a fountain to get a drink of water. My dad said, ‘You can’t drink out of that one,’ and I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘See the sign. ... It says Blacks only.’ I asked why. He said, ‘That’s just how it is.’ All of a sudden, I became aware that Black and white people weren’t equal … at least not in St. Augustine.”

Listening to Ann’s story caused me to pause. I needed to process what I had

More caught than taughtFrom the personal to the political