If hating Duke is wrong, I don't want to be right!

Published in The Dispatch

GateHouse Media 

I’ve loved the Tar Heels ever since the majestic white envelope with sky-blue lettering appeared in my mailbox one afternoon in December of 1995. I applied for early decision to three schools, and UNC was the second to say “Yes.” I remember standing outside of my auntie’s car tearing into the package and being mesmerized by the colorful images of dorm life. My housing options arrived a few days before my acceptance letter, and as I stood on the lawn of a 500-square-foot apartment I could feel a world of opportunity waiting for me in Chapel Hill. Just like that I became a mighty Tar Heel.

My trash talk began with my job at the Daily Tar Heel. Our newspaper staff had an ongoing bet with the Duke Chronicle, and the losing school’s newspaper often agreed to publish its masthead in the winning school’s shade of blue. One year we even wagered a front page. Another year, UNC lost to Duke, and our paper was filled with “funny” stories from our Chronicle colleagues at the other end of Tobacco Road.

I can’t decide if my hatred of Duke is superseded by my love of the Tar Heels, but my annual I-hate-Duke column (aka, “The Devil definitely wears a darker shade of blue”) isn’t unusual for a UNC grad. In fact, it has been inspired by a piece written by Ian Williams, a 1990 Daily Tar Heel columnist. His version of, "Why I Hate Duke," was updated in 2007 and runs in the Daily Tar Heel every year around this time.

“Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people,” Williams wrote, “but I'll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testaments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squandering their parents’ money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.” Let the Tar Heels say Amen!

Fast Forward to last week’s matchup

I knew my school spirit had gone a little too far when the hotel front desk called my room with less than a minute left in the first matchup of this season between UNC and Duke. I had to watch my Tar Heels play their rivalry game while I was traveling in Charleston, South Carolina, “Gamecock territory,” according to our waitress at dinner.

“Ma’am, we received some noise complaints,” the front desk clerk told me over the phone as UNC missed yet another foul shot. The next part was fuzzy, but I think she uttered something along the lines of “a woman’s cries of distress.” I was apolgetic as I held my hand over the receiver and whispered loudly to my beau, “We’re letting the @#! game slip away.” My mother raised me better and, apparently, our friends a little further south didn’t appreciate the epic magnitude of a UNC–Duke matchup.

he Tobacco Road rivalry is always rousing, but I have to confess that over the past few years something sinister has come over me. I typically make a few digs about why I hate the Devils leading up to the big game, but this year I found myself aggressively posting smack on friends’ pages. I even got into a social media exchange with a high school classmate who threatened to delete me (all in jest, of course).

What I love about the UNC-Duke matchup is that no matter who is on top of the rankings, expect the unexpected when those two teams get together. Last week’s game was another example, close until the final seconds when Duke pulled away from North Carolina late to win 86–78.

Are Carolina Blue skies in our future?

According to college basketball analysts, UNC Head Coach Roy Williams shouldn’t be too concerned with the Duke loss, but the Tar Heels are in for a rough few weeks before the rematch with Duke at the Smith Center on March 4. UNC is currently tied with Florida State atop the ACC, but five other teams are within reach. Our chances of repeating as regular-season conference champs could soon slip away if we aren’t victorious in the next few games.

I haven't found a way to get my Carolina fever in check, so I’m extending apologies in advance to anyone within 500 feet during the next UNC-Duke game. 

If hating Duke is wrong, I don't want to be right!

Black History---Beyond the Text Book

Previously
Published in The Dispatch

A GateHouse Media Newspaper

In the words of Black History Month founder Carter G. Woodson, "Those who have no record of what their forebearers have accomplished lose the inspiration, which comes from the teaching of biography and history."

Woodson, a staunch advocate of education, forecasted that with each generation, we would move further away from understanding those critical moments in American history, and seemingly, lose appreciation of traditions influenced by American artists with visible African ancestry. For some, his concept is barely recognizable in our Black History Month recognitions, which tend to begin with slavery and then leap through history to end with Martin Luther King Jr.

However this year's conversations will be heavy with the all too familiar burden of a divided nation and here are some ways I plan to share the month of reflection.

My Great-Great-Grandfather
Robert Partee of East Spencer

Exploring more local history — Historical research has become somewhat of a hobby over the past decade ranging from searching slave registries in Rowan and Davidson County, to the North Carolina Transportation Museum starting where a portrait of my great-great-grandfather is on display. As I have mentioned in previous columns, his name is Robert Partee, and he was a former owner of the land that we now call The Spencer Shops. Land records have confirmed that Robert owned 140 acres in Salisbury, Spencer, and East Spencer. In 1880, Partee purchased 102 acres of land in Spencer from John Henderson for $712. After an unsuccessful U.S. Senate race, Henderson began secretly purchasing land to develop a depot district for the Southern Railway. Robert Partee was honored by the N.C. Transportation Museum for having sold back the land to Henderson for the advancement of the railway.

Trekking back through local history stirred an interest to looking beyond what we learned about our heritage in textbooks. Learning about people like my great-great-grandfather left me asking, “What else am I missing?” Partee owned land before emancipation, yet his legacy isn't well known outside of our family’s oral tradition. Since then I’ve been strolling through historical documents and discovering dozens of untold contributions of women and men.

Visiting museums— The Davidson County Historical Museum is gathering a number of interesting pieces for a timeline of the county’s history. Throughout February, they are working with local community members to borrow contributions, catalog them and determine a name for the section focusing on African-American history.

Another nearby museum, Harvey B. Gantt Center forAfrican-American Arts + Culture located in the heart of Uptown Charlotte, will honor the past and present though exhibits such as “Family First: The Inventors Workshop, with Dulce Tavares,” opening Feb. 4. Tavares’ research honors African-American inventors who are often anonymous. The museum invited families to "come with your own found objects or tools, and participate in a workshop focused on developing a new, creative, and experimental invention."

Embracing past and present art — “The Future is Abstract”highlights four contemporary artists working in abstract painting and mixed-media which opened on Jan. 28 at the Gantt Museum. As a fan of Charlotte’s native son and Harlem Renaissance artist Romare Bearden, there is a sense of paying homage to his life with art encompassing his broad range of intellectual and scholarly interests, including music, the performing arts, history and literature.

Supporting quality television programming — I am abandoning my long tradition of watching “Roots.” Last year’s remake and Hollywood’s obsession with slavery was too much for me. Instead, a few friends across the nation are planning to tune-in to some of PBS’s Independent Lens film broadcasts where we will hashtag and live Tweet together.

On Feb. 10, we will be watching “Get in the Way: The Journey of John Lewis.” This is the first major documentary biography of Lewis. Since Lewis’s public rift with the President, there has been a rising interest in the decorated civil rights hero. Amazon sales for his books, “Walking with the Wind: A Memoir of the Movement” and “March,” both ballooned more than 100,000 percent, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

We are also committed to the Feb. 13 showing of “Accidental Courtesy” an Indie documentary about African-American Musician Daryl Davis, who has played all over the world with legends like Chuck Berry and Little Richard. Davis takes the controversial step of befriending members of the Ku Klux Klan. We can always count on PBS to share some thought-provoking films, not just for African-American History month, but throughout the year.

The past few months exemplify why we still need Woodson’s concept. Critical moments of inviting the nation to recognize the legacies of everyday African-Americans who have made an extraordinary impact on our society through their art, actions and struggles can bring people together. What are your plans for this month?

When the little ones in your life teach you a lesson

Previously published in 

The Dispatch
GateHouse Media 

When I tried to explain to my freshly 5-year-old buddy that people once were unable to go to school or pools together because of their skin color, Calvin looked at me with that child-like smirk of disbelief. As I held my brown fingers next to his lighter ones, he said in a dense and lippy tone, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Calvin was right, “But unfortunately, it’s true.” Our conversation unfolded on the eve of a visit to his preschool class’ celebration of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Calvin’s mom, Kelly, and I have been calling each other "sister" for almost a decade. We’ve shared in family dinners, holidays, heart-breaks, successes, failures and a heap of stories that would make our parents blush. In fact, I was one of the sisters in the waiting room when Calvin was born. His teacher, who reads this column, asked her if I’d speak about the MLK holiday. I am accustomed to writing about cultural and historical figures, but it’s been awhile since I’ve had a speaking engagement. I’m not sure what made me more nervous: the invitation to speak or the task of trying to explain civil rights to 3- to 5-year-olds.

I turned to social media for ideas — only to find a decorating craft on a toilet paper roll. I am not sure who thought up that idea. (Kelly assures me that preschoolers are likely to come home with anything attached to a toilet paper roll.) I didn’t think anything short of a schoolwide stomach bug could produce enough resources for the activity. There had to be a better way to honor the legacy of a slain civil rights hero.

And then there were lofty guides, produced by people with lots of letters behind their names, with titles like “Talking to Our Children about Racism & Diversity.” The guide encouraged people not to shelter children from the harsh realities of bigotry. “Five- to 8-year-olds begin to place value judgments on similarities and differences. They often rank the things in their world from ‘best’ to ‘worst.’ They like to win and hate to lose. They choose best friends. They get left out of games and clubs, and they exclude others — sometimes because of race, ethnicity and religion,” according to this guide.

With all due respect to people above my pay grade, I only had three to five minutes to share and I was almost certain that it would take me longer to define the word “bigotry” than to explain the benefits of welcoming people of all backgrounds.

The night before the presentation, I had nothing (except a heightened respect for people who effectively communicate with preschoolers on a regular basis). It wasn’t until the morning of the event, when I asked Calvin what I should say about King and his birthday, that it clicked. Calvin’s little face lit up because we both genuinely love a good birthday celebration. In fact, he often invites me to impromptu celebrations for his stuffed animals. We decided that cake, cupcakes, singing and candles would be in order for King.

We also decided that art should be on the agenda, so we printed an outline of King’s face for the kids to color. I had so much to say about the women of the civil rights movement, the new Jim Crow and modern examples of segregation, but I decided to step down off of my soapbox long enough to listen. 

Through conversations with the little boy I’ve loved since the moment his mommy introduced us at the hospital, I was reminded that some lessons are better lived out. I’ve seen more people come together through hospital beds, battlefields, dinner tables and classrooms than soapboxes. The words of Dr. King still echo through history: “I have a dream that one day … little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

Indeed, interpersonal relationships are probably the only way that we will continue to value the lives and opinions of people that appear to be different from us. I will never forget when some of my south Georgia family members, who witnessed brutality against African Americans, began looking at my friendship with Kelly differently. Over the years, living our version of “sisterhood” has challenged their willingness to trust friendships outside of color lines.

Hopefully Calvin has a little more time before having to answer questions about why one of his aunties has a different skin color. For now, I will enjoy experiencing King’s dream through the example of my little friend, who managed to bypass all my complicated explanations about acceptance with a truth summed up in four simple words: “All skin is beautiful.”

The Sisterhood & Calvin

When Hidden Figures Make History

Recently published in The Dispatch 

Scrolling through microfilm from the late 1950s and early 1960s has given me a new appreciation for women who worked behind the scenes, but are often missing from historical media. Hours of digesting newspapers with lengthy “women sections,” dedicated primarily to homemaking tips and how to “appear pleasing” at work, left me eager to find underrepresented stories.

My friends at the Davidson County Historical Museum are always good sports when it comes to my little research projects. While working with the museum to gather information about the Washington Park Pool, Museum Registrar Caitlin Williams sent me a story from July 1951 with a cringe warning.

The lead sentence reads, "Women can be very enthusiastic creatures, and when they get really set on an idea they are apt to do something about it, but when Uncle Sam says 'No,' it will stop them every time. The later part of May the Lexington Charity League decided they were going to do something about the long-needed Negro swimming pool for Lexington." Apparently, 18 members of the league demanded a meeting “in the sweltering sun” with business leaders, county and city officials to determine feasible properties.

Caitlin was right; the depiction of these women made me cringe. The reporter’s word choice said a lot about the way women were considered during this era. He writes, “Then the boom fell. Supt. of Schools L.E. Andrews, who had been adding with the project, received a notice in connection with his school building business stating that no pool whatsoever can be constructed now under a new NPA ruling.” The most cringe-worthy aspect of the story was the smug closing. “The ladies are much disappointed that their feverish activities ended in such an abrupt manner, but perhaps someday their project can be launched again.”

Relaunch it did, but details are slim. Not a single woman’s name was mentioned in the 1951 news story, and the newspaper coverage of how Washington Park went from being ruled out to actually happening is spotty at best - except for the 1955 property transaction. The deed states that owners Joe H. White and wife Virginia along with R. Bruce Smith and wife Eleanor agreed to sell the land for the sum of one dollar to the city for “construction of a swimming pool and recreation park” located on the Old Florida School Property surrounded by “residences for colored citizens.”

The property was outside of the corporate city limits, but an agreement was reached for the city to construct and maintain the park. On the rare chance that I might be able to contact one of the original owners, I sought out the obituary of Mrs. Virginia McCrary White. White died in 2006 at the age of 94, but her obituary and the newspaper article helped confirm some of my suspicions stating, “She was lifelong resident of Lexington and graduated from Duke University in the Class of 1933. She was a member of the Charity League of Lexington.” We may never know exactly what role she and her friends played in our local history, but I can only imagine.

When reading old news reports, it seems like decades of behind-the-scenes stories were missing. Most recently, the film “Hidden Figures” introduced three brilliant African-American women at NASA — Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson — who served as the brains behind the launch of astronaut John Glenn into orbit, a stunning achievement that restored the nation's confidence and galvanized the world. The film was my first exposure to these women’s stories.

I had a moment of reckoning when a friend sent me The Washington Post story about journalist Clare Hollingworth. She died on Jan. 10 at the age of 105. She led a colorful life and had a lengthy career covering wars around the world. She was described in print this way: "Dressed in a tailored safari suit and sometimes packing a pearl-handled revolver, Ms. Hollingworth marched with troops, witnessed firefights, traveled to rebel hideouts and rode along during aerial bombing runs. In Kashmir, motoring across a bridge that had come under shelling by Pakistani troops, she gushed to a colleague, 'Now, this is what makes life worth living!’”

A friend asked how a former Charity League member, African-American woman and journalist missed these important stories. Women were not “allowed” in the forefront of our media, their stories were not valued and never taught. I can only affirm my commitment to seeking and sharing untold perspectives. 

Let these figures be hidden no more.