For Grant High teen, being blind to race wasn’t always easy
Grant High School, Portland, 1965.
New to the school, I met my best friend and soul sister, Claudia Lewis. We would meet between classes to chat and share feelings. Her nickname for me was “Teardrop,” saying my eyes looked like tears.
One day after class we met like always, but this time Claudia had the tears in her eyes.
A group of her friends hung back in the distance while she explained how she hated being black. The civil rights moment was finally gaining momentum and befriending a white person wasn’t always popular just then.
My family raised me to be gender and race “blind.”
My German father marrying my Italian mother caused them both to be disowned by their families.
I could identify with the pain of being a woman in a man’s world but now, as Claudia spoke words that stuck a knife in my heart, I prayed to God to correct this wrong.
Claudia was a female and black, and when she said she hated being black I vowed to her that we will live to see the world change.
As tensions grew, white students were transferred to other schools and I was one who was told suddenly that I now lived in the Madison school district.
I lost touch with Claudia but never lost hope of meeting up with her someday.
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