November 3, 2016, A Day Without Black People: A National Strike & Boycott In Support of Colin Kaepernick & Black Lives Matter

"Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage."

~ Maya Angelou

I will be participating in what I hope will become a nationwide strike and boycott by all black Americans and our supporters on November 3, 2016, Colin Kaepernick's 29th birthday, in support of Colin Kaepernick's protest and Black Lives Matter.  Let's call it "A Day Without Black People."

On November 3, 2016, I will not be going to work.  That's the strike.  I will also not be spending any money.  That's the boycott.    If I had children, I would keep them out of school.  

Clearly the problems of African Americans -- injustice and murder at the hands of the criminal justice system -- are considered aberrations and not AMERICAN problems.  We're told to leave if we don't like America and that Kaepernick's protest is unpatriotic and anti-military.  Clearly America doesn't see African Americans as Americans.  America doesn't see our problems as American problems.  America doesn't see anything wrong with how we are treated in America.

So I think America needs to know what America it looks like without black people, if only for a day.

I understand that not everyone has the luxury of taking a day off work.   Here's what you can do if you can't afford to take the day off:

1) If you can't strike, don't spend any money that day.

2) Take a selfie of yourself taking a knee -- wearing Kaepernick's jersey if you can -- and post it on your social media with one or more of these hashtags:

 #ADayWithoutBlackPeople 

#TakingAKneeOnNovemberThree 

#QuarterbackForJustice 

#BlackOut

3) Have a moment of silence  in your workplace or home for all of the black lives lost at the hands of the police and vigilantes like George Zimmerman.  Say their names and pray for them.

4) If you must spend money, write "Black Lives Matter" on your bills when you spend them.

5) Tell everyone on social media that you support A Day Without Black People, even if you aren't black and/or can't take the day off.

6) Have the conversation with co-workers, family and friends about Kaepernick's protest.  Here are some talking points when you hear the usual arguments:

a) Argument;  It's disrespectful to not stand for the national anthem.

Answer:  The NFL only began playing the national anthem consistently when the military started sponsoring military displays at NFL games.  The Supreme Court has upheld as constitutional the right not to salute the flag or engage in shows of patriotism.  When a nation does not live up to its own standards, the people have a right to peacefully protest to hold the nation accountable.  That is what Kaepernick and Black Lives Matter are doing.

b)  Argument: If you don't like America, you should leave.

Answer:  As African Americans, we are a stolen people in a stolen country.  The only people who have the right to tell anyone they should leave American are Native Americans.  Besides, the blood and sweat of our ancestors built this country and the economy on whose backs your people profited.  If anyone should leave, it is the slavers and their ancestors, not the stolen and enslaved and their ancestors.

I believe in my country and the ideas for which it stands, including equal justice under law.  I most certainly will not leave, but will stay and make my country live up to its values.  If everyone left when the country fell short of living up to its values, the country would fall apart.  Right now, my country is not living up to its values.

c) Argument: Kaepernick should do his protest on his own time.

Answer:  What Kaepernick is doing is not illegal, and he is doing it peacefully.  Would you be saying the same thing if you agreed with what he is protesting for?

I'll be the first to admit:  I supported what Colin Kaepernick was protesting for, but I didn't support his method, or the method of Black Lives Matter, for that matter.  I felt that a protest without a clear goal, e.g., the end of a war, the passage of legislation, would be never-ending and ineffective.  Given the backlash against Kaepernick -- calling him unpatriotic, saying that if he doesn't like America he should leave, saying he should just shut up and play -- I believe that the effort to silence Kaepernick is an effort to silence all black people.  It takes a lot for a young black man to be as courageous as Kaepernick is being and take the heat for it.  So here is my individual effort to be as courageous as Colin Kaepernick for all my people.  Instead of being a drum major for justice like Dr. King told us we could be, let's support Colin Kaepernick and be quarterbacks for justice.

See you -- or rather,  I won't be seeing you -- on November 3.

#ADayWithoutBlackPeople 

#TakingAKneeOnNovemberThree 

#QuarterbackForJustice 

#BlackOut

November 3, 2016, A Day Without Black People: A National Strike & Boycott In Support of Colin Kaepernick & Black Lives Matter

"Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage."

~ Maya Angelou

I will be participating in what I hope will become a nationwide strike and boycott by all black Americans and our supporters on November 3, 2016, Colin Kaepernick's 29th birthday, in support of Colin Kaepernick's protest and Black Lives Matter.  Let's call it "A Day Without Black People."

On November 3, 2016, I will not be going to work.  That's the strike.  I will also not be spending any money.  That's the boycott.    If I had children, I would keep them out of school.  

Clearly the problems of African Americans -- injustice and murder at the hands of the criminal justice system -- are considered aberrations and not AMERICAN problems.  We're told to leave if we don't like America and that Kaepernick's protest is unpatriotic and anti-military.  Clearly America doesn't see African Americans as Americans.  America doesn't see our problems as American problems.  America doesn't see anything wrong with how we are treated in America.

So I think America needs to know what America it looks like without black people, if only for a day.

I understand that not everyone has the luxury of taking a day off work.   Here's what you can do if you can't afford to take the day off:

1) If you can't strike, don't spend any money that day.

2) Take a selfie of yourself taking a knee -- wearing Kaepernick's jersey if you can -- and post it on your social media with one or more of these hashtags:

 #ADayWithoutBlackPeople 

#TakingAKneeOnNovemberThree 

#QuarterbackForJustice 

#BlackOut

3) Have a moment of silence  in your workplace or home for all of the black lives lost at the hands of the police and vigilantes like George Zimmerman.  Say their names and pray for them.

4) If you must spend money, write "Black Lives Matter" on your bills when you spend them.

5) Tell everyone on social media that you support A Day Without Black People, even if you aren't black and/or can't take the day off.

6) Have the conversation with co-workers, family and friends about Kaepernick's protest.  Here are some talking points when you hear the usual arguments:

a) Argument;  It's disrespectful to not stand for the national anthem.

Answer:  The NFL only began playing the national anthem consistently when the military started sponsoring military displays at NFL games.  The Supreme Court has upheld as constitutional the right not to salute the flag or engage in shows of patriotism.  When a nation does not live up to its own standards, the people have a right to peacefully protest to hold the nation accountable.  That is what Kaepernick and Black Lives Matter are doing.

b)  Argument: If you don't like America, you should leave.

Answer:  As African Americans, we are a stolen people in a stolen country.  The only people who have the right to tell anyone they should leave American are Native Americans.  Besides, the blood and sweat of our ancestors built this country and the economy on whose backs your people profited.  If anyone should leave, it is the slavers and their ancestors, not the stolen and enslaved and their ancestors.

I believe in my country and the ideas for which it stands, including equal justice under law.  I most certainly will not leave, but will stay and make my country live up to its values.  If everyone left when the country fell short of living up to its values, the country would fall apart.  Right now, my country is not living up to its values.

c) Argument: Kaepernick should do his protest on his own time.

Answer:  What Kaepernick is doing is not illegal, and he is doing it peacefully.  Would you be saying the same thing if you agreed with what he is protesting for?

I'll be the first to admit:  I supported what Colin Kaepernick was protesting for, but I didn't support his method, or the method of Black Lives Matter, for that matter.  I felt that a protest without a clear goal, e.g., the end of a war, the passage of legislation, would be never-ending and ineffective.  Given the backlash against Kaepernick -- calling him unpatriotic, saying that if he doesn't like America he should leave, saying he should just shut up and play -- I believe that the effort to silence Kaepernick is an effort to silence all black people.  It takes a lot for a young black man to be as courageous as Kaepernick is being and take the heat for it.  So here is my individual effort to be as courageous as Colin Kaepernick for all my people.  Instead of being a drum major for justice like Dr. King told us we could be, let's support Colin Kaepernick and be quarterbacks for justice.

See you -- or rather,  I won't be seeing you -- on November 3.

#ADayWithoutBlackPeople 

#TakingAKneeOnNovemberThree 

#QuarterbackForJustice 

#BlackOut

Shit Gets Real At Forty

Dear Gentle Readers,

If you don't learn anything else from my many years of musings, learn this:

Shit gets real at forty.

No.  For real.

Here's what I mean:  If you are the average American, by the time you hit forty, your children are probably halfway to adulthood or in early adulthood.  You may be paying for their college education or trying to help them get established in a job or an apartment or anywhere that isn't your home.  And you may or may not be succeeding.  Or you may be stressing about how you will pay for their college education because, unlike when I came up, parents are more frequently having to take out private loans to pay for their children's educations.

If you are the average American, at forty your parents are probably alive but getting older.  You start to realize that they aren't immortal or invincible.  If they haven't planned for their retirement, you're justifiably concerned.  If they are infirm, you're more than concerned.  You're worried -- worried how long they can continue to live on their own and whether they will have sufficient health insurance to cover them.

If you are the average American, at forty you're staring down retirement within the next two and a half decades regardless of whether you have your own financial shit together, because time just marches on whether you have your shit together or not.  Even if you want to work past 67, you have to plan for the fact that you may not be healthy enough to do so.  If you are the average American, at forty you probably don't have enough set aside to retire by 67.  You may not even like your current job or your career path, but you're feeling vulnerable because you're officially within the group of workers subject to age discrimination.

In other words, at forty, you become the meaty center of a stress sandwich.

When I look at younger people in my family who are approaching or passing forty, I wonder if they really appreciate the position they're in and how they're on the clock to deal with what awaits them.

I got married five days before my fortieth birthday.  A month after my wedding,  I was officially unemployed.  After moving back and forth between practicing and teaching law with not much to show for it financially, I had to make a paradigm shift, as Black Man Not Blogging would call it.  The one thing I knew how to do was to get a state government job, like my parents and my material grandmother before me.  I consciously chose job security -- because you have to be an absolute idiot to get fired from a rank-and-file job with the State of California -- financial security, and a pension over career passion and excitement, at least for the short term.  Somehow, passion wasn't getting me where I wanted to be financially, and when I thought about how much I didn't have for retirement, I wasn't particularly excited.  I was willing to make some short-term sacrifices to get on the path to financial security and personal peace.  Over time, I was able to find a state government position that I enjoy with all the financial and retirement security I so sorely need.  It has come in handy.  I've been called to help out others financially, and I have been blessed to have been able to do so.

My advice to anyone who is staring down forty is this:  Stop.  Take stock of where you are, where you want to be, and who you are going to be responsible for.  Don't deny the truth of your situation, no matter how ugly it may be.  Be willing to make some sacrifices in the short term for long-term goals.  Be flexible.  I'm not saying dump your dreams, but be willing to find other ways to achieve them while shoring up your financial position and your retirement.  Assume that you won't have anyone to help you financially in old age, because that may in fact end up being the case.  If your current path isn't working for you financially or spiritually, find a different way.

Shit gets real at forty, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.

If Black People Embrace The Underwood Doctrine, Cops Will Be Killed

**WARNING:  SPOIL ALERT FOR THE END OF SEASON FOUR OF "HOUSE OF CARDS."**

"We don't submit to terror.  We make the terror." Frank Underwood, "House of Cards"

I'm a huge fan of Netflix's original series, including the original original series, "House of Cards."  I think the writing is unsurpassed and Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright insufficiently acknowledged for their extraordinary work.

In the last episode of Season Four of "House of Cards," the context of which I won't discuss, both Frank and Claire Underwood look into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, while Frank declares, "We don't submit to terror.  We make the terror."

I would call this the "Underwood Doctrine."  At least two blacks, one in Dallas and one in Baton Rouge, have embraced it.

From slavery to now, there has always been a contingent of my race that has believed that violence is an all-too-appropriate response to violence against us.  If you think of African Americans -- or any Americans, for that matter -- on what I would call a violence acceptance spectrum, I would say that, at one end of the spectrum, there are the violence acceptors, followed by the violence sympathizers, the violence understanders, and the violence rejectors.

The violence acceptors, especially the two black men who shot police officers in Dallas and Baton Rouge, embraced the Underwood Doctrine.  One could call into question their mental stability, but I would venture to argue that not all violence acceptors are unstable.  Violence acceptors have no problem with retaliating against those who are part of the group who terrorize, even if such individuals have done no wrong themselves.

The violence sympathizers won't personally engage in retaliatory violence, but they support those who do.  They might even post bail for them, mount a legal defense for them, seek mercy for them.  They believe the retaliatory violence is justified.  The violence sympathizers might use violence in self-defense, but they won't use it in retaliation against those who have not directly harmed them.

The violence understanders don't agree with violence in retaliation for violence, but they understand those who do.  They seek to explain to those who don't understand retaliatory violence how the violence acceptors got to the point where they feel retaliatory violence is justified.

Finally, the violence rejectors reject violence of all kinds against anyone.  Dr. King was a violence rejector.

The problem is that with each unjustified killing of an unarmed black person by police officers or vigilantes like George Zimmerman, the more the rejectors become understanders, the understanders become sympathizers, and the sympathizers become acceptors. The more black people become acceptors, the more likely we will not submit to police terror, but make the terror instead.

Or as my 91 year-old dad so aptly put it in the haze of his dementia, "We ain't gonna lay down this time."

As I see the Black Lives Matter movement being demonized as a hate group even though no one involved with Black Lives Matter has picked up a gun and killed police,  I ask that we talk about the hate that got us where we are today, where black lives can be extinguished by fearful, racist police officers and vigilantes -- of all races, mind you -- without justification, explanation, condemnation, or consolation from the people doing the killing.

America, you got some 'splainin to do, as they say in the South. But stop blaming Black Lives Matter.  Your hate and fear made Black Lives Matter not just possible, but necessary.

America, what you need to fear more than you fear us is to fear us armed.  Fear us making runs on gun stores like you do every time gun control legislation is introduced.  Fear us becoming Nat Turner radicalized, especially in open carry states.  Fear us at the gun ranges, preparing to retaliate.

Fear us putting real context to the faux "All Lives Matter" movement, with police officers' lives being extinguished without justification, explanation, condemnation, or consolation from black people.

Fear us embracing the Underwood Doctrine.

I do.

The GOP and Donald Trump: Fart Lighting the American Electorate

Gas lighting:  Gaslighting or gas-lighting is a form of mental abuse in which a victim is manipulated into doubting their own memory, perception, and sanity.

Fart lighting:  A form of gasligthting when someone does something really offensive, e.g., farting, pretends that the offensive act did not occur, and tries to manipulate the memory of others who witnessed it.

I was dismayed to hear that Speaker Paul Ryan endorsed Donald Trump today.  Given the Speaker's past interracial romantic relationship with a black woman, I thought he might be cooler than that.

He isn't.

What troubles me most about the GOP now rallying around Donald Trump is that they either want the rest of us to forget the racist, sexist and xenophobic comments he's made and continues to make, or they just don't care if we're offended.  They're not a deal breaker for the GOP as long as Trump beats Clinton.

The GOP's willingness to rally around Trump because of commonality on other issues, such as abortion rights (and since when did Donald Trump become the standard bearer for the pro-life movement?  Like, uh, yesterday?) means that, to their mind and the minds of their party members, unmitigated and unrepentant racism, sexism and xenophobia are not disqualifiers for holding the highest office in the Free World.  This is despite the fact that the very nation the GOP wants to lead is increasingly diverse, so much so that states like California are made up of a majority of people of color.  As Bob Scheiffer of CBS news put it, there aren't enough white people to make up for the minority votes the GOP will lose with Trump.

Where the fart lighting comes in, and you can thank me for the new turn of phrase, is in the GOP's not even acknowledging that these comments were made.  It's like when someone farts in a room such that everyone heard it and smelled it, but the farting party continues to pretend like it never happened.  What's worse -- they will deny that it happened if you call them on it and blame it on you instead.  Kinda like the way Donald Trump turns the table on the press and insults them when they seek to hold him accountable for his words or his record.

Even more insulting to the increasingly diverse American electorate is that the GOP has in no way tried to explain away or apologize for the offensive remarks Trump has made.  It's as if the remarks don't matter, the people offended by the remarks don't matter, or both.

As one of my cousins often writes on Facebook, GTFOOH. 

I am a member of a predominantly African-American sorority whose founders marched for the equal rights of women of all races to vote.  I am a member of a race whose people marched, sat in and died for the equality and dignity of all races.  I am an affirmative action baby whose potential was realized because of the sacrifices of generations who came before me.  I am highly educated.

I will not be fart lighted or gas lighted.  I will not forget Trump calling Mexicans rapists, denigrating women, and painting all Muslims as terrorists.  The more the GOP wants to fart light me and pretend those words were never spoken by Trump or that they don't matter, the more I will speak up and put my money where my mouth is by donating to the DNC. If the GOP is determined to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a racist, sexist and xenophobic candidate, I will not remain mute. I will call them out on their choice.  To my mind, standing with Trump is no better than standing with David Duke.

I will be neither fart lighted or gas lighted when it comes to Donald Trump. My ancestors and all who sacrificed for my freedom and equality under the law deserve more from me.

The End of the Purple Reign (Prince Rogers Nelson, May He Rest in Purple Peace)

I was just leaving my sister The Writing Diva's  job when she called me on my cell phone.  I was thinking I left something behind.  In less than a breath, she said:

"Prince died."

I asked, "Prince the musician?"

She replied, "Yes."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I was shocked.  Last I heard, he had just briefly come off his "Piano and a Microphone" tour to battle the flu.  He was, to my mind, young.  He had always seemed fit.  I figured I'd catch him the next time around. Now here I am, learning the same lesson I learned when Etta James and Ray Charles died -- go see the artists you love while they're still living.

And I blame Kimberly Hancock for all of it.  She introduced me to Prince's music, which was the slow death of my innocence and the birth of my appreciation of his genius.

Kimberly Hancock was my age and my race and lived down the street from me in the 1970's.  As I recall, she introduced me to Prince when we were both preteens.  She gushed over how cute he was, cute as the Sylvers.  I questioned her taste, since every teenage black girl knew that the Jacksons where way cuter than the Sylvers.  She had a copy of his first album, "For You."  I'm pretty certain she played "Soft and Wet" for me.

I. Was. Hooked.

For starters, even as a kid, I'd always been a sucker for a good bass line.  "Soft and Wet' was like nothing I had heard before.  But what got me, more than the falsetto, more than the bass line, were the album credits.  Yes, I was THAT kid who read album credits, even as a preteen.   I was the kid who had to know what instrument was making the sound of a tennis ball being hit on Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On." (Moog synthesizer, if I recall correctly).

The album credits stated that all the instruments were played by Prince.  All the songs were written, arranged and produced by Prince, with the exception of "Soft and Wet," for which he shared a writing credit, I think.

There was only one musician, one artist, one person I knew of at that time who wrote all his own songs, played all his own instruments, and produced and arranged his own music:  Stevie Wonder.

That's when I knew Prince was a genius.  He was a musical badass before there was even a name for it.

But, my oh my, was he taking an early toll on my innocence.

I fell hard for what sounded like synthesized bass lines in "I Wanna Be Your Lover" and "Head."  It wasn't until I started college at Stanford when my friends, who took great joy in bursting my innocence, explained what exactly was "soft and wet," what the double entendre in "I Wanna Be Your Lover" meant -- "I wanna be the only one you come for" -- and explained what "Head" was talking about, to which I responded, "EEEUUUWWW!"

By the time "Controversy" came out, I didn't care whether Prince was black or white, straight or gay.  No one did.  We were having too much fun dancing to his music.

It was after "Controversy" came out that I went to my first concert ever (Did I tell you I had a very sheltered childhood in Sacramento?) with my college friends to see Prince, The Time and Vanity Six at the Oakland Coliseum.  It was and remains the best concert I've ever attended, with each act trying to outdo the other and none being able to hold a candle to Prince.

I remember seeing the movie "Purple Rain" and thinking that although the acting was okay, the music was phenomenal.  I wondered how autobiographical it was and felt saddened by what I thought might have been Prince's life before stardom.  I know I was shocked that he won an Oscar for the song "Purple Rain."  More shocked than I was when Isaac Hayes won for the theme from "Shaft."  To put it mildly, I thought of Prince's music as a black thing, and I didn't think white folks were ready for him just yet.

I was wrong.  So wrong.

I'll admit it -- over the years, I didn't buy all of his albums.  He was simply too damn prolific and I couldn't keep up.  But every once in a while a song would just hit me and I'd have to have it.  What I adored most about Prince was that, through all his phases and changes, including the symbol phase, his music was unmistakably his.  He wasn't trying to be anyone but himself.  He didn't chase trends; he made them.  Even the rise of hip-hop didn't shake his game as it did other stars of the 1980's.    When he wrote "slave" on his cheek and tried to get out of his contract with Warner Brothers. I rooted for him.  I thought, "Why shouldn't he have the full benefit of his genius?  He's Prince!"

Prince was generous with his genius, sharing his spotlight with the likes of Mavis Staples, Olympic gymnast Dominique Dawes ("Betcha By Golly Wow" video, anyone?) and the most unlikely Sheena Easton.  Yes, Sheena Easton, of "Morning Train" fame.  I loved "U Got The Look" because it was so unexpected and yet danceable, taking her game to a higher level.  I also doubt that Sheila E''s "Glamorous Life" would have happened but for Prince.  When she kicked that high hat with her foot in the video? All I could think was, "Well damn!"  Thanks, Prince.

My musical memories of Prince are too many to name.  My favorite songs tend toward the early ones, like "How Come U Don't Call Me," which I first heard performed by Stephanie Mills.  It is still timeless because you hear the black church influence in it.  Another is "Little Red Corvette."  Yes, it was yet another nail in the coffin of whatever was left of my innocence, but that song was straight up feminist.  In that song, Prince portrayed a woman who totally owned her sexuality and pursued sex for sex's sake without commitment or fear of judgment.  Her sexuality clearly intimidated the narrator in the song -- "I guess I should have closed my eyes when you drove me to the place where your horses run free . . . I felt a little ill when I saw all the pictures of the jockey who were there before me . . . . " To my mind, it was the first musical acknowledgement that women's sexuality could mirror that of men, that women were sexual beings without guilt or shame, even though the narrator warns that she "needs a love that's going to last."  Thanks, Prince.

When I was going through my very bad dating phase during the 1990's, the chorus to Prince's "Anotherloverholenyohead" became my anthem:  "You need another lover . . .like you need a hole in your head."  It was so true.  I needed to do what I eventually did -- stop dating, regroup, and figure out what I really needed in a man, as opposed to what I wanted.  Once I became clear, I found that what I really needed I had had all along:  Black Man Not Blogging.   We reconciled in 2001 and married in 2003.  Thanks, Prince.

But my favorite Prince song?  "Kiss," and for one reason and one reason only:  My late mom.

I love the song's lyrical nod to grown women, "Women, not girls, rule my world."  But "Kiss" means so much more to me.  You see, my mom worked really hard trying to house, clothe and feed six children and keep us in school and out of trouble.  She loved music, but she didn't always embrace what we kids listened to.  She certainly didn't embrace our dances.  Saturdays were her time to catch up on her housework and listen to her music while doing so.  Watching my mom, a middle-aged, short, chubby woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, pushing her Hoover vacuum cleaner on a Saturday morning when Prince's "Kiss" came on?  Priceless.  When the bridge begins with Prince declaring, "Think I wanna dance," my mom would break out into what can best be described as her "mom dance."  She didn't care how out of date it was.  She didn't care what anyone thought.  She was just having a good time, dancing along with Prince, just as joyful as she could be.  It is one of the happiest musical memories I have of my mom.

And for that, I am forever grateful to Kimberly Hancock and to Prince Rogers Nelson, may he rest in purple peace.

Godspeed, Nelle Harper Lee, and Thank You

I was sorry to hear of the passing of Nelle Harper Lee, author of "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Go Set A Watchman," and otherwise known by her pen name, Harper Lee.  What a weird coincidence that an author who artfully exposed America's racist underbelly passed during the same week of the passing of a U.S. Supreme Court justice who seemed oblivious to his replication of said underbelly in word and legal decisions.

I am a member of the "TKAM" cult.  I am the daughter of a black Southerner and briefly lived in the South. Lee's book confirmed the stories I would hear from my Southern dad and relatives about the precarious position of African Americans in the Jim Crow South.  The major difference between my father's childhood in the 1930's Jim Crow South and what is portrayed in TKAM is that the Atticus Finches of the world were few and very, very far between in his childhood home of Gould, Arkansas.

I can't say that I was inspired by the character of Atticus Finch to become a lawyer; I was already well on my way on the path to becoming a lawyer by the time I read TKAM, or at least I was in my mind.  What I found oddly comforting about TKAM is that it confirmed the stories my dad had sometimes inadvertently shared about his childhood, which he occasionally let slip but tried mostly to shield us kids from in our lives in what he called his "Promised Land," California.  He didn't want to bring the South and its Jim Crow past with him into our lives that were relatively untainted by racism, but sometimes he let things slip.  He wanted better for us.  He still does.

But Nelle Harper Lee gave me a greater appreciation of how precarious my father's existence as a black boy in the 1930's Jim Crow South had been, long before Isabel Wilkerson would write "The Warmth of Other Suns."  I'm grateful that TKAM was assigned reading.  May it forever remain so.

When "The Mockingbird Next Door" came out, I was thrilled to learn more about this lady who had confirmed what I had heard of my father's childhood.  She courageously put America's racist predilections front and center in the form of a YA novel that the South could at once claim proudly as stellar writing in the Southern literary tradition and disclaim falsely as aberrational in its portrayal of Southern race relations.  There would be no sequel, no sophomore effort, at least none she would speak of.  I had to know more about this woman who wrote one of the best novels of the twentieth century.

Before I got around to reading "The Mockingbird Next Door," word came that her novel that preceded TKAM, "Go Set A Watchman," was "discovered" and would be published, allegedly with her permission.  I planned a weekend of literary excess around its publication:  I would read "The Mockingbird Next Door," then "Go Set A Watchman," and then re-read TKAM.  TKAM was indeed the sophomore effort.  "Watchman" was her first novel that was never published on the advice of her editor, who counseled her to write something more positive than TKAM.  After reading "Watchman," I understood why.

Contrary to the Amazon reviews bashing "Watchman" because of the questionable circumstances under which it was published, I loved it.  I loved it because I realized what courage it took for Lee to write it when she wrote it.  I loved it because in this era when people finally have a name for the concept of white privilege, Scout was having a philosophical discussion about it and white supremacy with Atticus and about his role in preserving them, a role that Atticus fans could not have imagined from his portrayal in TKAM and Gregory Peck's film portrayal of Atticus.

Simply put, given the racial upheaval happening in the South when Lee wrote "Watchman," had it been published when she wrote it, I am confident that Lee would have met up with a terrible end.  White Southerners intent on preserving their "way of life," i.e., white supremacy, had already rallied 'round the Confederate flag, literally, when Lee put pen to paper to write her first novel.  I am confident white Southerners would not have countenanced one of their own exposing them in such a manner.  TKAM made racial oppression in the South look like something that Southern whites of good will would not support, when in fact it was most often the other way around -- racial oppression was something the majority of southern Whites, of good will and otherwise, did and would support.

And Atticus?  He didn't support racial oppression, but he sure did believe in white supremacy.  And to a lesser degree, so did Scout.  Go read for yourself if you haven't already.

No matter how she told it, in TKAM and "Watchman," Nelle Harper Lee told the truth about race and racism in the South without flinching.  She told the truth in a manner that made white Americans reckon with that truth and feel good doing so because of her craft in telling a good story.  Because of her own white Southern privilege, she was considered a credible witness.

For that, Nelle Harper Lee, I thank you.  Godspeed and rest in peace.