Over the next week, Rabbi Ron Stern will share his personal journey into a deeper understanding of the complexities of race in America. It is hoped that you will find both inspiration and cause for personal reflection as you read about his journey. It is important to note that these perspectives are, first and foremost, his own and do not necessarily represent the views of the entire clergy team or the Board; and secondly, that these few days of writings and few paragraphs of reflections are by no means comprehensive nor adequate to grasp the enormity of the challenge and the complexities of the issue—but they capture that we have to continue (or for some, begin) the journey.
My grandmother had a maid’s bathroom.
I was born in the Jim Crow South. I didn’t know it at the time, of course. We belonged to the country club where we’d go to swim, waited on by Black attendants dressed in immaculate white uniforms. There wasn’t a Black face in the water, nor seated on a lounge chair. It was just the way it was. In my grandmother’s house there was a special bathroom where white uniforms were hung on gray cinderblock walls. It was undecorated, just off the rather large laundry room, and from time to time I’d venture in because it was closest to the kitchen. What I didn’t know then, and only found out after reading The Help was that this was the maid’s bathroom, built by the original owners in keeping with southern custom so that the Black maids wouldn’t use the bathrooms anywhere else in the house. I also didn’t know that those uniforms were a vestige of a time when they were required attire for a Black nanny when she took her white charge out for a walk. Failure to wear the uniform could result in accusations of abduction or at the very least harassment by the all-white police force.
What astounds me is that I realized none of this until I was well into my 40’s. It was then that I began my journey into understanding the enduring and systemic racism that is still tragically pervasive in this country. As a white Jew in the south, and even growing up in the more “enlightened” north (or so I thought), the circumstances of Black America just weren’t on my radar.
While the uniforms are gone and there is more integration at the country clubs, plenty of older houses still have that bathroom, of course. Charlotte, North Carolina is a far more integrated and enlightened city than it was when I lived there but old habits die hard. Despite the disappearance of the most obvious signs of discrimination and the meaningful progress, profound and discriminatory racial biases continue all these years later.
Educate yourself. Take the time to listen to the Code Switch Podcast. Looking to have the conversation with your kids? Please do! Look here.
— Rabbi Ron Stern