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Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]

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  • phillymom35
    Hi Everyone at GM, was reading about Mr Willams, after seeing him on tv show yesterday ... thought I d pass it on ... [[[[[ A Search for Racial Identity on the
    Message 1 of 14 , Nov 1, 2006
    • 0 Attachment
      Hi Everyone at GM,

      was reading about Mr Willams, after
      seeing him on tv show yesterday
      ... thought I'd pass it on ...

      [[[[[

      A Search for Racial Identity on the `Color Line'
      Deirdre Donahue
      USA TODAY

      When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
      his father turned to him on a bus ride to
      Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
      going to be different from now on.

      In Virginia you were white boys.
      In Indiana, you're going to be “Colored” boys.

      I want you to remember that you're the
      same today that you were yesterday.

      But people in Indiana will
      treat you differently.

      The compelling story of just how different
      that life would be forms the core of Williams'
      much-discussed new book, ‘Life on the Color
      Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
      Discovered He was Black’ (Dutton, $22.95).

      Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
      swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.

      Overnight, his racial identity changed.

      The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
      TODAY Best-Selling Books list.

      Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
      ‘White’ mother and a [mixed-race] “black”
      [categorized / identified] father when
      interracial relationships were still
      against the law in Virginia.

      His light-skinned father told people
      he was Italian, and his mother was
      disowned by her family in Muncie.

      The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
      that failed partly because the Korean
      War ended and partly because Williams'
      charismatic father drank heavily.

      Eventually, Williams' mother left
      the family [due to domestic violence].
      She took her two youngest children
      but left Williams and his brother
      Mike with their father.

      The two sons would not se or hear
      from their mother for a decade.

      With their father, the two boys headed
      to Muncie, where they discovered that
      life for “black” boys was very
      different than for white boys.

      "I was the same person, but because
      my heritage, I was treated very
      differently," Williams says.

      Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
      and Williams was denied an academic award
      in the sixth grade because of his “race”.

      Often going hungry, the two boys lived
      at first with their paternal grandmother,
      who had worked at the tavern back
      in Virginia, where the boys knew
      her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.

      No one had mentioned she
      was their father's mother.

      "She was very angry about that."

      Now the dean of Ohio State University College
      of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
      counseled many minority students and they told
      him how inspiring and affirming his story was.

      A top student and high school athlete,
      Williams put himself through Ball
      State University while working
      full time as a sheriff.

      He also attended law school and
      has published legal textbooks.

      When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
      where the KKK had been active for many
      years, there was strict racial segregation

      With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
      has always looked [‘mono’-racially] ‘White’.

      But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
      ‘skin-color’ --- - it's “race” and
      “racial” heritage," Williams says.

      His white grandmother lived less
      than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
      yet brutally rejected the two boys.

      After they begged for their mother's
      address so they could write her, she
      ordered them out of her car, saying,
      "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"

      Only his mother's youngest sister
      kept in touch with Williams.

      By contrast, his “black” relatives and
      their community accepted the two boys
      after some playground scuffles and taunts.

      "We became “black” [“identified”].
      Those were the people who were supporting us.
      I became proud of my heritage.
      I realized who I was.

      Moreover Williams had seen his father
      "pass" for [being ‘mono’-racially]
      ‘White’ and the pain he suffered
      emotionally at this self-denial.

      Economically, however, “passing”
      generated much more money.

      Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
      grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.

      After the family moved to Muncie, the
      best job his 41-year-old father, who
      had attended Howard University, could
      get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.

      What saved Williams in the end was a woman
      named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
      providing them with a stable home.

      At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
      domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.

      "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
      who dedicated the book to her, his wife
      and his now-deceased father who, despite
      his drinking and difficulties, always
      encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.

      His mother, however, remains a wound.

      Williams understands why she left her husband,
      but she has never apologized or even admitted
      that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.

      (She periodically returned to Muncie
      yet never contacted her sons. )
      When he saw her at age 20,
      "She didn't want to talk to us about
      how we had survived, what we had
      gone through," Williams says.
      "She was in denial. "
      When Williams told her recently
      that the book was to be published,
      "she was not happy about it."

      Williams traveled back to Muncie
      recently and ... visited his
      elementary school and [discovered]
      "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
      in terms of what “black” children
      can expect from this world.

      While he believes there have been
      "some advances in race relations,there
      continues to be a lot of divisions. "

      Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
      for whites to understand how "overpowering
      and overshadowing the perceptions about
      “blacks” in this society can be.
      ”It's very difficult”

      <<<<<

      BOOK EXCERPT:

      `Remember Miss Sallie who used
      to work for us in the tavern?'
      Dad's lower lip quivered.
      He look ill.
      Had he always looked this unhealthy,
      I wondered, or was it something
      that had happened on the trip?
      `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
      He paused, then slowly added,
      `But she's really my momma.
      That means she's your grandmother. '
      `But that can't be, Dad!
      She's Colored!'
      I whispered, lest I be overheard by
      the other white passengers on the bus.
      `That's right, Billy,'
      he continued.
      `She's Colored.
      That makes you
      Part-Colored, too.'...
      I didn't understand Day.
      I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
      My skin was white.
      All of us are white, I said to myself.
      But for the first time, I had to admit
      Dad didn't exactly look white.
      His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
      as I sat there trying to
      classify my own father...
      `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
      `I don't wanta be Colored.
      We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
      I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
      grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
      I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
      The veil dropped from his face and features.
      Before my eyes he was transformed
      from a swarthy Italian to his true
      self ----- ‘a high- yellow Mulatto’.
      My father was [classified as’ “a Negro”!
      We were Colored!
      After ten years in Virginia on the white side
      of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.

      From ‘Life on the Color Line’

      Dawn D.
      Bennett-Alexander

      >>>>>

      ]]]]]
    • docilechicken24
      Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that. It wasn t til about 19 maybe til I found out I was black [categorized] or a person of color . To this
      Message 2 of 14 , Nov 2, 2006
      • 0 Attachment
        Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
        It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
        was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
        To this day I have family members
        that describe themselves as Italian.

        Dustin



        > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
        > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
        > Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
        > going to be different from now on.
        >
        > In Virginia you were white boys.
        > In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
        >
        > I want you to remember that you're the
        > same today that you were yesterday.
        >
        > But people in Indiana will
        > treat you differently.
        >
        > The compelling story of just how different
        > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
        > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
        > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
        > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
        >
        > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
        > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
        >
        > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
        >
        > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
        > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
        >
        > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
        > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
        > [categorized / identified] father when
        > interracial relationships were still
        > against the law in Virginia.
        >
        > His light-skinned father told people
        > he was Italian, and his mother was
        > disowned by her family in Muncie.
        >
        > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
        > that failed partly because the Korean
        > War ended and partly because Williams'
        > charismatic father drank heavily.
        >
        > Eventually, Williams' mother left
        > the family [due to domestic violence].
        > She took her two youngest children
        > but left Williams and his brother
        > Mike with their father.
        >
        > The two sons would not se or hear
        > from their mother for a decade.
        >
        > With their father, the two boys headed
        > to Muncie, where they discovered that
        > life for "black" boys was very
        > different than for white boys.
        >
        > "I was the same person, but because
        > my heritage, I was treated very
        > differently," Williams says.
        >
        > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
        > and Williams was denied an academic award
        > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
        >
        > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
        > at first with their paternal grandmother,
        > who had worked at the tavern back
        > in Virginia, where the boys knew
        > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
        >
        > No one had mentioned she
        > was their father's mother.
        >
        > "She was very angry about that."
        >
        > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
        > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
        > counseled many minority students and they told
        > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
        >
        > A top student and high school athlete,
        > Williams put himself through Ball
        > State University while working
        > full time as a sheriff.
        >
        > He also attended law school and
        > has published legal textbooks.
        >
        > When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
        > where the KKK had been active for many
        > years, there was strict racial segregation
        >
        > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
        > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
        >
        > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
        > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
        > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
        >
        > His white grandmother lived less
        > than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
        > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
        >
        > After they begged for their mother's
        > address so they could write her, she
        > ordered them out of her car, saying,
        > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
        >
        > Only his mother's youngest sister
        > kept in touch with Williams.
        >
        > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
        > their community accepted the two boys
        > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
        >
        > "We became "black" ["identified"].
        > Those were the people who were supporting us.
        > I became proud of my heritage.
        > I realized who I was.
        >
        > Moreover Williams had seen his father
        > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
        > `White' and the pain he suffered
        > emotionally at this self-denial.
        >
        > Economically, however, "passing"
        > generated much more money.
        >
        > Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
        > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
        >
        > After the family moved to Muncie, the
        > best job his 41-year-old father, who
        > had attended Howard University, could
        > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
        >
        > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
        > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
        > providing them with a stable home.
        >
        > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
        > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
        >
        > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
        > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
        > and his now-deceased father who, despite
        > his drinking and difficulties, always
        > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
        >
        > His mother, however, remains a wound.
        >
        > Williams understands why she left her husband,
        > but she has never apologized or even admitted
        > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
        >
        > (She periodically returned to Muncie
        > yet never contacted her sons. )
        > When he saw her at age 20,
        > "She didn't want to talk to us about
        > how we had survived, what we had
        > gone through," Williams says.
        > "She was in denial. "
        > When Williams told her recently
        > that the book was to be published,
        > "she was not happy about it."
        >
        > Williams traveled back to Muncie
        > recently and ... visited his
        > elementary school and [discovered]
        > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
        > in terms of what "black" children
        > can expect from this world.
        >
        > While he believes there have been
        > "some advances in race relations,there
        > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
        >
        > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
        > for whites to understand how "overpowering
        > and overshadowing the perceptions about
        > "blacks" in this society can be.
        > "It's very difficult"
        >
        > <<<<<
        >
        > BOOK EXCERPT:
        >
        > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
        > to work for us in the tavern?'
        > Dad's lower lip quivered.
        > He look ill.
        > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
        > I wondered, or was it something
        > that had happened on the trip?
        > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
        > He paused, then slowly added,
        > `But she's really my momma.
        > That means she's your grandmother. '
        > `But that can't be, Dad!
        > She's Colored!'
        > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
        > the other white passengers on the bus.
        > `That's right, Billy,'
        > he continued.
        > `She's Colored.
        > That makes you
        > Part-Colored, too.'...
        > I didn't understand Day.
        > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
        > My skin was white.
        > All of us are white, I said to myself.
        > But for the first time, I had to admit
        > Dad didn't exactly look white.
        > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
        > as I sat there trying to
        > classify my own father...
        > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
        > `I don't wanta be Colored.
        > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
        > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
        > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
        > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
        > The veil dropped from his face and features.
        > Before my eyes he was transformed
        > from a swarthy Italian to his true
        > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
        > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
        > We were Colored!
        > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
        > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
        >
        > From `Life on the Color Line'
        >
        > Dawn D.
        > Bennett-Alexander
        >
        > >>>>>
        >
        > ]]]]]
        >
      • j s
        I started finding out at 14 so I understand. BTW this book looks interesting docilechicken24 wrote: Thanks for sharing this person, I
        Message 3 of 14 , Nov 2, 2006
        • 0 Attachment
          I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
           
          BTW this book looks interesting

          docilechicken24 <kjoule70@...> wrote:
          Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
          It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
          was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
          To this day I have family members
          that describe themselves as Italian.

          Dustin

          > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
          > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
          > Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
          > going to be different from now on.
          >
          > In Virginia you were white boys.
          > In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
          >
          > I want you to remember that you're the
          > same today that you were yesterday.
          >
          > But people in Indiana will
          > treat you differently.
          >
          > The compelling story of just how different
          > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
          > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
          > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
          > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
          >
          > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
          > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
          >
          > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
          >
          > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
          > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
          >
          > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
          > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
          > [categorized / identified] father when
          > interracial relationships were still
          > against the law in Virginia.
          >
          > His light-skinned father told people
          > he was Italian, and his mother was
          > disowned by her family in Muncie.
          >
          > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
          > that failed partly because the Korean
          > War ended and partly because Williams'
          > charismatic father drank heavily.
          >
          > Eventually, Williams' mother left
          > the family [due to domestic violence].
          > She took her two youngest children
          > but left Williams and his brother
          > Mike with their father.
          >
          > The two sons would not se or hear
          > from their mother for a decade.
          >
          > With their father, the two boys headed
          > to Muncie, where they discovered that
          > life for "black" boys was very
          > different than for white boys.
          >
          > "I was the same person, but because
          > my heritage, I was treated very
          > differently, " Williams says.
          >
          > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
          > and Williams was denied an academic award
          > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
          >
          > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
          > at first with their paternal grandmother,
          > who had worked at the tavern back
          > in Virginia, where the boys knew
          > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
          >
          > No one had mentioned she
          > was their father's mother.
          >
          > "She was very angry about that."
          >
          > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
          > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
          > counseled many minority students and they told
          > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
          >
          > A top student and high school athlete,
          > Williams put himself through Ball
          > State University while working
          > full time as a sheriff.
          >
          > He also attended law school and
          > has published legal textbooks.
          >
          > When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
          > where the KKK had been active for many
          > years, there was strict racial segregation
          >
          > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
          > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
          >
          > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
          > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
          > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
          >
          > His white grandmother lived less
          > than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
          > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
          >
          > After they begged for their mother's
          > address so they could write her, she
          > ordered them out of her car, saying,
          > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
          >
          > Only his mother's youngest sister
          > kept in touch with Williams.
          >
          > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
          > their community accepted the two boys
          > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
          >
          > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
          > Those were the people who were supporting us.
          > I became proud of my heritage.
          > I realized who I was.
          >
          > Moreover Williams had seen his father
          > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
          > `White' and the pain he suffered
          > emotionally at this self-denial.
          >
          > Economically, however, "passing"
          > generated much more money.
          >
          > Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
          > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
          >
          > After the family moved to Muncie, the
          > best job his 41-year-old father, who
          > had attended Howard University, could
          > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
          >
          > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
          > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
          > providing them with a stable home.
          >
          > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
          > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
          >
          > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
          > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
          > and his now-deceased father who, despite
          > his drinking and difficulties, always
          > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
          >
          > His mother, however, remains a wound.
          >
          > Williams understands why she left her husband,
          > but she has never apologized or even admitted
          > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
          >
          > (She periodically returned to Muncie
          > yet never contacted her sons. )
          > When he saw her at age 20,
          > "She didn't want to talk to us about
          > how we had survived, what we had
          > gone through," Williams says.
          > "She was in denial. "
          > When Williams told her recently
          > that the book was to be published,
          > "she was not happy about it."
          >
          > Williams traveled back to Muncie
          > recently and ... visited his
          > elementary school and [discovered]
          > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
          > in terms of what "black" children
          > can expect from this world.
          >
          > While he believes there have been
          > "some advances in race relations,there
          > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
          >
          > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
          > for whites to understand how "overpowering
          > and overshadowing the perceptions about
          > "blacks" in this society can be.
          > "It's very difficult"
          >
          > <<<<<
          >
          > BOOK EXCERPT:
          >
          > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
          > to work for us in the tavern?'
          > Dad's lower lip quivered.
          > He look ill.
          > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
          > I wondered, or was it something
          > that had happened on the trip?
          > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
          > He paused, then slowly added,
          > `But she's really my momma.
          > That means she's your grandmother. '
          > `But that can't be, Dad!
          > She's Colored!'
          > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
          > the other white passengers on the bus.
          > `That's right, Billy,'
          > he continued.
          > `She's Colored.
          > That makes you
          > Part-Colored, too.'...
          > I didn't understand Day.
          > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
          > My skin was white.
          > All of us are white, I said to myself.
          > But for the first time, I had to admit
          > Dad didn't exactly look white.
          > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
          > as I sat there trying to
          > classify my own father...
          > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
          > `I don't wanta be Colored.
          > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
          > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
          > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
          > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
          > The veil dropped from his face and features.
          > Before my eyes he was transformed
          > from a swarthy Italian to his true
          > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
          > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
          > We were Colored!
          > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
          > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
          >
          > From `Life on the Color Line'
          >
          > Dawn D.
          > Bennett-Alexander
          >
          > >>>>>
          >
          > ]]]]]
          >



          Low, Low, Low Rates! Check out Yahoo! Messenger's cheap PC-to-Phone call rates.

        • tlbaker1
          How did the conversation come up, if you don t mind me asking? Lynne _____ From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com [mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com] On
          Message 4 of 14 , Nov 2, 2006
          • 0 Attachment

            How did the conversation come up, if you don't mind me asking?

             

            Lynne

             


            From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
            [mailto: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com ]
            On Behalf Of
            j s
            Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
            To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
            Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]

             

            I started finding out at 14 so I understand.

            BTW this book looks interesting


            docilechicken24 <kjoule70@...> wrote:


            Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
            It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
            was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
            To this day I have family members
            that describe themselves as Italian.

            Dustin




            > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
            > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
            > Muncie , Ind. , and told him, "Life is
            > going to be different from now on.
            >
            > In Virginia you were white boys.
            > In Indiana , you're going to be "Colored" boys.
            >
            > I want you to remember that you're the
            > same today that you were yesterday.
            >
            > But people in Indiana will
            > treat you differently.
            >
            > The compelling story of just how different
            > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
            > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
            > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
            > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
            >
            > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
            > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
            >
            > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
            >
            > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
            > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
            >
            > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
            > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
            > [categorized / identified] father when
            > interracial relationships were still
            > against the law in Virginia .
            >
            > His light-skinned father told people
            > he was Italian, and his mother was
            > disowned by her family in Muncie .
            >
            > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
            > that failed partly because the Korean
            > War ended and partly because Williams'
            > charismatic father drank heavily.
            >
            > Eventually, Williams' mother left
            > the family [due to domestic violence].
            > She took her two youngest children
            > but left Williams and his brother
            > Mike with their father.
            >
            > The two sons would not se or hear
            > from their mother for a decade.
            >
            > With their father, the two boys headed
            > to Muncie , where they discovered that
            > life for "black" boys was very
            > different than for white boys.
            >
            > "I was the same person, but because
            > my heritage, I was treated very
            > differently, " Williams says.
            >
            > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
            > and Williams was denied an academic award
            > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
            >
            > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
            > at first with their paternal grandmother,
            > who had worked at the tavern back
            > in Virginia , where the boys knew
            > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
            >
            > No one had mentioned she
            > was their father's mother.
            >
            > "She was very angry about that."
            >
            > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
            > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
            > counseled many minority students and they told
            > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
            >
            > A top student and high school athlete,
            > Williams put himself through Ball
            > State University while working
            > full time as a sheriff.
            >
            > He also attended law school and
            > has published legal textbooks.
            >
            > When Williams was growing up in Muncie ,
            > where the KKK had been active for many
            > years, there was strict racial segregation
            >
            > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
            > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
            >
            > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
            > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
            > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
            >
            > His white grandmother lived less
            > than 10 minutes away in Muncie ,
            > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
            >
            > After they begged for their mother's
            > address so they could write her, she
            > ordered them out of her car, saying,
            > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
            >
            > Only his mother's youngest sister
            > kept in touch with Williams.
            >
            > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
            > their community accepted the two boys
            > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
            >
            > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
            > Those were the people who were supporting us.
            > I became proud of my heritage.
            > I realized who I was.
            >
            > Moreover Williams had seen his father
            > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
            > `White' and the pain he suffered
            > emotionally at this self-denial.
            >
            > Economically, however, "passing"
            > generated much more money.
            >
            > Back in Virginia , his father's businesses
            > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
            >
            > After the family moved to Muncie , the
            > best job his 41-year-old father, who
            > had attended Howard University , could
            > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
            >
            > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
            > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
            > providing them with a stable home.
            >
            > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
            > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
            >
            > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
            > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
            > and his now-deceased father who, despite
            > his drinking and difficulties, always
            > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
            >
            > His mother, however, remains a wound.
            >
            > Williams understands why she left her husband,
            > but she has never apologized or even admitted
            > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
            >
            > (She periodically returned to Muncie
            > yet never contacted her sons. )
            > When he saw her at age 20,
            > "She didn't want to talk to us about
            > how we had survived, what we had
            > gone through," Williams says.
            > "She was in denial. "
            > When Williams told her recently
            > that the book was to be published,
            > "she was not happy about it."
            >
            > Williams traveled back to Muncie
            > recently and ... visited his
            > elementary school and [discovered]
            > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
            > in terms of what "black" children
            > can expect from this world.
            >
            > While he believes there have been
            > "some advances in race relations,there
            > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
            >
            > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
            > for whites to understand how "overpowering
            > and overshadowing the perceptions about
            > "blacks" in this society can be.
            > "It's very difficult"
            >
            > <<<<<
            >
            > BOOK EXCERPT:
            >
            > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
            > to work for us in the tavern?'
            > Dad's lower lip quivered.
            > He look ill.
            > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
            > I wondered, or was it something
            > that had happened on the trip?
            > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
            > He paused, then slowly added,
            > `But she's really my momma.
            > That means she's your grandmother. '
            > `But that can't be, Dad!
            > She's Colored!'
            > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
            > the other white passengers on the bus.
            > `That's right, Billy,'
            > he continued.
            > `She's Colored.
            > That makes you
            > Part-Colored, too.'...
            > I didn't understand Day.
            > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
            > My skin was white.
            > All of us are white, I said to myself.
            > But for the first time, I had to admit
            > Dad didn't exactly look white.
            > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
            > as I sat there trying to
            > classify my own father...
            > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
            > `I don't wanta be Colored.
            > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
            > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
            > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
            > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
            > The veil dropped from his face and features.
            > Before my eyes he was transformed
            > from a swarthy Italian to his true
            > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
            > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
            > We were Colored!
            > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
            > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
            >
            > From `Life on the Color Line'
            >
            > Dawn D.
            > Bennett-Alexander
            >
            > >>>>>
            >
            > ]]]]]
            >

             

             


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          • j s
            Basically I was asked by an older black male when I was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my mother
            Message 5 of 14 , Nov 3, 2006
            • 0 Attachment
              Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
              was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
              asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
              mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
              Of course she didn't know anything about it
              and I started to think my father, who was
              no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

              Well as time passed and I started to look at my
              maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
              look that she had, as well as the fullness of
              my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
              (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
              the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
              silliness about how a great grandfather had been
              robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
              the family fortune after the Civil War (those
              types of stories were frequently created to
              explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
              had arrived in new places with no possessions
              or real history) and it all made sense.

              Up until then the family had said how there was
              Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
              but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
              In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
              history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
              research she said "don't go back too far,
              you're liable to find the tar brush!"
               
                
              tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...> wrote:
              How did the conversation come up, if you don't mind me asking?

              Lynne



              From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
              [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
              On Behalf Of
              j s
              Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
              To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
              Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]


              I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
              BTW this book looks interesting


              docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:

              Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
              It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
              was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
              To this day I have family members
              that describe themselves as Italian.

              Dustin




              > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
              > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
              > Muncie , Ind. , and told him, "Life is
              > going to be different from now on.
              >
              > In Virginia you were white boys.
              > In Indiana , you're going to be "Colored" boys.
              >
              > I want you to remember that you're the
              > same today that you were yesterday.
              >
              > But people in Indiana will
              > treat you differently.
              >
              > The compelling story of just how different
              > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
              > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
              > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
              > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
              >
              > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
              > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
              >
              > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
              >
              > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
              > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
              >
              > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
              > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
              > [categorized / identified] father when
              > interracial relationships were still
              > against the law in Virginia .
              >
              > His light-skinned father told people
              > he was Italian, and his mother was
              > disowned by her family in Muncie .
              >
              > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
              > that failed partly because the Korean
              > War ended and partly because Williams'
              > charismatic father drank heavily.
              >
              > Eventually, Williams' mother left
              > the family [due to domestic violence].
              > She took her two youngest children
              > but left Williams and his brother
              > Mike with their father.
              >
              > The two sons would not se or hear
              > from their mother for a decade.
              >
              > With their father, the two boys headed
              > to Muncie , where they discovered that
              > life for "black" boys was very
              > different than for white boys.
              >
              > "I was the same person, but because
              > my heritage, I was treated very
              > differently, " Williams says.
              >
              > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
              > and Williams was denied an academic award
              > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
              >
              > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
              > at first with their paternal grandmother,
              > who had worked at the tavern back
              > in Virginia , where the boys knew
              > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
              >
              > No one had mentioned she
              > was their father's mother.
              >
              > "She was very angry about that."
              >
              > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
              > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
              > counseled many minority students and they told
              > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
              >
              > A top student and high school athlete,
              > Williams put himself through Ball
              > State University while working
              > full time as a sheriff.
              >
              > He also attended law school and
              > has published legal textbooks.
              >
              > When Williams was growing up in Muncie ,
              > where the KKK had been active for many
              > years, there was strict racial segregation
              >
              > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
              > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
              >
              > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
              > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
              > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
              >
              > His white grandmother lived less
              > than 10 minutes away in Muncie ,
              > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
              >
              > After they begged for their mother's
              > address so they could write her, she
              > ordered them out of her car, saying,
              > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
              >
              > Only his mother's youngest sister
              > kept in touch with Williams.
              >
              > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
              > their community accepted the two boys
              > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
              >
              > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
              > Those were the people who were supporting us.
              > I became proud of my heritage.
              > I realized who I was.
              >
              > Moreover Williams had seen his father
              > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
              > `White' and the pain he suffered
              > emotionally at this self-denial.
              >
              > Economically, however, "passing"
              > generated much more money.
              >
              > Back in Virginia , his father's businesses
              > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
              >
              > After the family moved to Muncie , the
              > best job his 41-year-old father, who
              > had attended Howard University , could
              > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
              >
              > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
              > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
              > providing them with a stable home.
              >
              > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
              > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
              >
              > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
              > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
              > and his now-deceased father who, despite
              > his drinking and difficulties, always
              > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
              >
              > His mother, however, remains a wound.
              >
              > Williams understands why she left her husband,
              > but she has never apologized or even admitted
              > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
              >
              > (She periodically returned to Muncie
              > yet never contacted her sons. )
              > When he saw her at age 20,
              > "She didn't want to talk to us about
              > how we had survived, what we had
              > gone through," Williams says.
              > "She was in denial. "
              > When Williams told her recently
              > that the book was to be published,
              > "she was not happy about it."
              >
              > Williams traveled back to Muncie
              > recently and ... visited his
              > elementary school and [discovered]
              > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
              > in terms of what "black" children
              > can expect from this world.
              >
              > While he believes there have been
              > "some advances in race relations,there
              > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
              >
              > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
              > for whites to understand how "overpowering
              > and overshadowing the perceptions about
              > "blacks" in this society can be.
              > "It's very difficult"
              >
              > <<<<<
              >
              > BOOK EXCERPT:
              >
              > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
              > to work for us in the tavern?'
              > Dad's lower lip quivered.
              > He look ill.
              > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
              > I wondered, or was it something
              > that had happened on the trip?
              > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
              > He paused, then slowly added,
              > `But she's really my momma.
              > That means she's your grandmother. '
              > `But that can't be, Dad!
              > She's Colored!'
              > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
              > the other white passengers on the bus.
              > `That's right, Billy,'
              > he continued.
              > `She's Colored.
              > That makes you
              > Part-Colored, too.'...
              > I didn't understand Day.
              > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
              > My skin was white.
              > All of us are white, I said to myself.
              > But for the first time, I had to admit
              > Dad didn't exactly look white.
              > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
              > as I sat there trying to
              > classify my own father...
              > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
              > `I don't wanta be Colored.
              > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
              > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
              > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
              > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
              > The veil dropped from his face and features.
              > Before my eyes he was transformed
              > from a swarthy Italian to his true
              > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
              > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
              > We were Colored!
              > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
              > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
              >
              > From `Life on the Color Line'
              >
              > Dawn D.
              > Bennett-Alexander
              >
              > >>>>>
              >
              > ]]]]]
              >
               

              Low, Low, Low Rates! Check out Yahoo! Messenger's cheap PC-to-Phone call rates.


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            • tlbaker1
              Interesting, you need to write a book. In my family on my mother s side, the further you go back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black. I love
              Message 6 of 14 , Nov 3, 2006
              • 0 Attachment

                Interesting, you need to write a book.

                In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                But was this news tramatic for you somehow?

                 


                From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                [mailto: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com ]
                On Behalf Of
                j s
                Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]

                 

                Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                Of course she didn't know anything about it
                and I started to think my father, who was
                no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                types of stories were frequently created to
                explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                had arrived in new places with no possessions
                or real history) and it all made sense.

                Up until then the family had said how there was
                Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                research she said "don't go back too far,
                you're liable to find the tar brush!"

                 

                  
                tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...> wrote:


                How did the conversation come up, if you don't mind me asking?


                Lynne

                 


                From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
                On Behalf Of
                j s
                Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]



                I started finding out at 14 so I understand.

                BTW this book looks interesting


                docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:

                 

                Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                To this day I have family members
                that describe themselves as Italian.

                Dustin




                > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                > Muncie , Ind. , and told him, "Life is
                > going to be different from now on.
                >
                > In Virginia you were white boys.
                > In Indiana , you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                >
                > I want you to remember that you're the
                > same today that you were yesterday.
                >
                > But people in Indiana will
                > treat you differently.
                >
                > The compelling story of just how different
                > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
                >
                > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
                >
                > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
                >
                > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
                >
                > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                > [categorized / identified] father when
                > interracial relationships were still
                > against the law in Virginia .
                >
                > His light-skinned father told people
                > he was Italian, and his mother was
                > disowned by her family in Muncie .
                >
                > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                > that failed partly because the Korean
                > War ended and partly because Williams'
                > charismatic father drank heavily.
                >
                > Eventually, Williams' mother left
                > the family [due to domestic violence].
                > She took her two youngest children
                > but left Williams and his brother
                > Mike with their father.
                >
                > The two sons would not se or hear
                > from their mother for a decade.
                >
                > With their father, the two boys headed
                > to Muncie , where they discovered that
                > life for "black" boys was very
                > different than for white boys.
                >
                > "I was the same person, but because
                > my heritage, I was treated very
                > differently, " Williams says.
                >
                > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                > and Williams was denied an academic award
                > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
                >
                > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                > at first with their paternal grandmother,
                > who had worked at the tavern back
                > in Virginia , where the boys knew
                > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
                >
                > No one had mentioned she
                > was their father's mother.
                >
                > "She was very angry about that."
                >
                > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                > counseled many minority students and they told
                > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
                >
                > A top student and high school athlete,
                > Williams put himself through Ball
                > State University while working
                > full time as a sheriff.
                >
                > He also attended law school and
                > has published legal textbooks.
                >
                > When Williams was growing up in Muncie ,
                > where the KKK had been active for many
                > years, there was strict racial segregation
                >
                > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
                >
                > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
                >
                > His white grandmother lived less
                > than 10 minutes away in Muncie ,
                > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
                >
                > After they begged for their mother's
                > address so they could write her, she
                > ordered them out of her car, saying,
                > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
                >
                > Only his mother's youngest sister
                > kept in touch with Williams.
                >
                > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                > their community accepted the two boys
                > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
                >
                > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                > Those were the people who were supporting us.
                > I became proud of my heritage.
                > I realized who I was.
                >
                > Moreover Williams had seen his father
                > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                > `White' and the pain he suffered
                > emotionally at this self-denial.
                >
                > Economically, however, "passing"
                > generated much more money.
                >
                > Back in Virginia , his father's businesses
                > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
                >
                > After the family moved to Muncie , the
                > best job his 41-year-old father, who
                > had attended Howard University , could
                > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
                >
                > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                > providing them with a stable home.
                >
                > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
                >
                > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                > and his now-deceased father who, despite
                > his drinking and difficulties, always
                > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
                >
                > His mother, however, remains a wound.
                >
                > Williams understands why she left her husband,
                > but she has never apologized or even admitted
                > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
                >
                > (She periodically returned to Muncie
                > yet never contacted her sons. )
                > When he saw her at age 20,
                > "She didn't want to talk to us about
                > how we had survived, what we had
                > gone through," Williams says.
                > "She was in denial. "
                > When Williams told her recently
                > that the book was to be published,
                > "she was not happy about it."
                >
                > Williams traveled back to Muncie
                > recently and ... visited his
                > elementary school and [discovered]
                > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                > in terms of what "black" children
                > can expect from this world.
                >
                > While he believes there have been
                > "some advances in race relations,there
                > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
                >
                > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                > for whites to understand how "overpowering
                > and overshadowing the perceptions about
                > "blacks" in this society can be.
                > "It's very difficult"
                >
                > <<<<<
                >
                > BOOK EXCERPT:
                >
                > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                > to work for us in the tavern?'
                > Dad's lower lip quivered.
                > He look ill.
                > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                > I wondered, or was it something
                > that had happened on the trip?
                > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                > He paused, then slowly added,
                > `But she's really my momma.
                > That means she's your grandmother. '
                > `But that can't be, Dad!
                > She's Colored!'
                > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                > the other white passengers on the bus.
                > `That's right, Billy,'
                > he continued.
                > `She's Colored.
                > That makes you
                > Part-Colored, too.'...
                > I didn't understand Day.
                > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                > My skin was white.
                > All of us are white, I said to myself.
                > But for the first time, I had to admit
                > Dad didn't exactly look white.
                > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                > as I sat there trying to
                > classify my own father...
                > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                > `I don't wanta be Colored.
                > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                > The veil dropped from his face and features.
                > Before my eyes he was transformed
                > from a swarthy Italian to his true
                > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                > We were Colored!
                > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
                >
                > From `Life on the Color Line'
                >
                > Dawn D.
                > Bennett-Alexander
                >
                > >>>>>
                >
                > ]]]]]
                >

                 


                Low, Low, Low Rates! Check out Yahoo! Messenger's cheap PC-to-Phone call rates.

                 

                 


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              • multiracialbookclub
                Jeff, Are you comfortable sharing more with us? If instance .... How did you respond to having your suspicions or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?
                Message 7 of 14 , Nov 4, 2006
                • 0 Attachment

                  Jeff,

                  Are you comfortable sharing more with us?

                  If instance ....

                  How did you respond to having your suspicions
                  or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?

                  What made you decide to go ahead and take the
                  DNA test that backed up what you had learned?

                  Was it difficult find a valid DNA testing company?

                  How does your immediate family react to your
                  openness about your Multi-Racial lineage?:-$

                  How have your friends reacted?:-/

                  How did you react (both then and now)?:O

                  Thanks and have a great day. :)


                  --M

                  P.S. 

                  Dustin -- can you also share a bit more about how you
                  discovered your full-lineage and your reaction (as well
                  as that of your family and friends), to learning of it?

                  Thanks.


                  In Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.
                  com, "tlbaker1" <tlbaker1@...> wrote:

                   

                  Interesting, you need to write a book.

                  In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                  back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                  I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                  But was this news tramatic for you somehow?

                   

                  From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                  [mailto: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com ]
                  On Behalf Of
                  j s
                  Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                  To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                  Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]

                   

                  Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                  was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                  asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                  mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                  Of course she didn't know anything about it
                  and I started to think my father, who was
                  no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                  Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                  maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                  look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                  my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                  (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                  the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                  silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                  robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                  the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                  types of stories were frequently created to
                  explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                  had arrived in new places with no possessions
                  or real history) and it all made sense.

                  Up until then the family had said how there was
                  Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                  but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                  In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                  history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                  research she said "don't go back too far,
                  you're liable to find the tar brush!" 

                   

                  tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...> wrote:

                   

                  How did the conversation come
                  up, if you don't mind me asking?

                  Lynne

                   


                  From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                  [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
                  On Behalf Of
                  j s
                  Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                  To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                  Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]

                   

                  I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                  BTW this book looks interesting

                   

                   


                  docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:

                   


                  Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                  It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                  was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                  To this day I have family members
                  that describe themselves as Italian.

                  Dustin




                  > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                  > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                  > Muncie , Ind. , and told him, "Life is
                  > going to be different from now on.
                  >
                  > In Virginia you were white boys.
                  > In Indiana , you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                  >
                  > I want you to remember that you're the
                  > same today that you were yesterday.
                  >
                  > But people in Indiana will
                  > treat you differently.
                  >
                  > The compelling story of just how different
                  > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                  > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                  > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                  > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
                  >
                  > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                  > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
                  >
                  > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
                  >
                  > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                  > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
                  >
                  > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                  > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                  > [categorized / identified] father when
                  > interracial relationships were still
                  > against the law in Virginia .
                  >
                  > His light-skinned father told people
                  > he was Italian, and his mother was
                  > disowned by her family in Muncie .
                  >
                  > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                  > that failed partly because the Korean
                  > War ended and partly because Williams'
                  > charismatic father drank heavily.
                  >
                  > Eventually, Williams' mother left
                  > the family [due to domestic violence].
                  > She took her two youngest children
                  > but left Williams and his brother
                  > Mike with their father.
                  >
                  > The two sons would not se or hear
                  > from their mother for a decade.
                  >
                  > With their father, the two boys headed
                  > to Muncie , where they discovered that
                  > life for "black" boys was very
                  > different than for white boys.
                  >
                  > "I was the same person, but because
                  > my heritage, I was treated very
                  > differently, " Williams says.
                  >
                  > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                  > and Williams was denied an academic award
                  > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
                  >
                  > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                  > at first with their paternal grandmother,
                  > who had worked at the tavern back
                  > in Virginia , where the boys knew
                  > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
                  >
                  > No one had mentioned she
                  > was their father's mother.
                  >
                  > "She was very angry about that."
                  >
                  > Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                  > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                  > counseled many minority students and they told
                  > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
                  >
                  > A top student and high school athlete,
                  > Williams put himself through Ball
                  > State University while working
                  > full time as a sheriff.
                  >
                  > He also attended law school and
                  > has published legal textbooks.
                  >
                  > When Williams was growing up in Muncie ,
                  > where the KKK had been active for many
                  > years, there was strict racial segregation
                  >
                  > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                  > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
                  >
                  > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                  > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                  > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
                  >
                  > His white grandmother lived less
                  > than 10 minutes away in Muncie ,
                  > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
                  >
                  > After they begged for their mother's
                  > address so they could write her, she
                  > ordered them out of her car, saying,
                  > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
                  >
                  > Only his mother's youngest sister
                  > kept in touch with Williams.
                  >
                  > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                  > their community accepted the two boys
                  > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
                  >
                  > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                  > Those were the people who were supporting us.
                  > I became proud of my heritage.
                  > I realized who I was.
                  >
                  > Moreover Williams had seen his father
                  > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                  > `White' and the pain he suffered
                  > emotionally at this self-denial.
                  >
                  > Economically, however, "passing"
                  > generated much more money.
                  >
                  > Back in Virginia , his father's businesses
                  > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
                  >
                  > After the family moved to Muncie , the
                  > best job his 41-year-old father, who
                  > had attended Howard University , could
                  > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
                  >
                  > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                  > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                  > providing them with a stable home.
                  >
                  > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                  > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
                  >
                  > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                  > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                  > and his now-deceased father who, despite
                  > his drinking and difficulties, always
                  > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
                  >
                  > His mother, however, remains a wound.
                  >
                  > Williams understands why she left her husband,
                  > but she has never apologized or even admitted
                  > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
                  >
                  > (She periodically returned to Muncie
                  > yet never contacted her sons. )
                  > When he saw her at age 20,
                  > "She didn't want to talk to us about
                  > how we had survived, what we had
                  > gone through," Williams says.
                  > "She was in denial. "
                  > When Williams told her recently
                  > that the book was to be published,
                  > "she was not happy about it."
                  >
                  > Williams traveled back to Muncie
                  > recently and ... visited his
                  > elementary school and [discovered]
                  > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                  > in terms of what "black" children
                  > can expect from this world.
                  >
                  > While he believes there have been
                  > "some advances in race relations,there
                  > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
                  >
                  > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                  > for whites to understand how "overpowering
                  > and overshadowing the perceptions about
                  > "blacks" in this society can be.
                  > "It's very difficult"
                  >
                  > <<<<<
                  >
                  > BOOK EXCERPT:
                  >
                  > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                  > to work for us in the tavern?'
                  > Dad's lower lip quivered.
                  > He look ill.
                  > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                  > I wondered, or was it something
                  > that had happened on the trip?
                  > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                  > He paused, then slowly added,
                  > `But she's really my momma.
                  > That means she's your grandmother. '
                  > `But that can't be, Dad!
                  > She's Colored!'
                  > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                  > the other white passengers on the bus.
                  > `That's right, Billy,'
                  > he continued.
                  > `She's Colored.
                  > That makes you
                  > Part-Colored, too.'...
                  > I didn't understand Day.
                  > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                  > My skin was white.
                  > All of us are white, I said to myself.
                  > But for the first time, I had to admit
                  > Dad didn't exactly look white.
                  > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                  > as I sat there trying to
                  > classify my own father...
                  > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                  > `I don't wanta be Colored.
                  > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                  > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                  > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                  > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                  > The veil dropped from his face and features.
                  > Before my eyes he was transformed
                  > from a swarthy Italian to his true
                  > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                  > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                  > We were Colored!
                  > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                  > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
                  >
                  > From `Life on the Color Line'
                  >
                  > Dawn D.
                  > Bennett-Alexander
                  >
                  > >>>>>
                  >
                  > ]]]]]
                  >

                • j s
                  I suppose it was traumatic in the sense that it was something I was mentally unprepared for, growing up and seeing myself as a White kid in the south. But
                  Message 8 of 14 , Nov 4, 2006
                  • 0 Attachment
                    I suppose it was "traumatic" in the sense that it was
                    something I was mentally unprepared for, growing
                    up and seeing myself as a White kid in the south.

                    But for a long time I thought it was all in my mind and that
                    I was simply "passing" for “black” with my lips and hair.
                    I was never really comfortable with being "Mixed" until
                    a few years ago. I think that was because I simply had
                    no proof, and being basically a logical person, I needed
                    it to be more than wishful thinking or hope etc.
                    Also there had been this thing my dad ( who was a con-man,
                    literally) said about how his mother was Sicilian and then
                    an Arab when I was a kid, and really preoccupied with Egypt,
                    North Africa in general, so for many years I really thought
                    he was the source. But then I received copies of his
                    parents and grandparents birth certificates etc and
                    it was all very Anglo names and everyone was White.
                    HOWEVER, his grandmother's maiden name Hughte was
                    something I could only find among Native Americans in the
                    south west, specifically Zuni, Pueblo and Navajo (perhaps a
                    derivative of the tribe "Ute" or "Paiute" from that area) so
                    I began to wonder if all the time I thought he was "passing”
                    as white and looking for an exotic explanation for it,
                    in fact he was hiding from the Native American in him.

                    But what was most frustrating was
                    the sheer lack of evidence in any way!

                    So, a few years ago, to settle it once and for all, I took the
                    ancestry by DNA test ( around $200) and it came back with 88%
                    European, 7% Sub-Saharan African and 5% Native American.
                    When I looked at it logically it kind of made sense -
                    there was no way any of my great grandparents were
                    more than Mulatto or else it would have shown up in
                    documents as Black, and the dilution through the
                    next generations was about the same as my results:
                    1/2 - 1/4/ - 1/8 - 1/16 or 50% - 25% - 12.5% - 6.25%
                    rounded up to 7% with the Native American, for my
                    great grandmother to have the native last name and
                    appear as White on the documents she was probably
                    half, so the amount of transmission is the same.
                    The company says in their literature that their tests seem
                    to validate the genuine percentages when testing biracial
                    children etc, but one must also allow that each person is
                    an individual and it's not a uniform distribution -
                    i.e. siblings of the same parents will not get the exact
                    amount, but common sense tells us that anyway just by
                    looking at kids and seeing which parent they more resemble.

                    What has been weird though, is that this was a sort of silent
                    struggle for many years because I had no proof, and it would go
                    from being a non-issue in my mind to being of great importance.
                    It was something I didn't really share a lot so people
                    that have known me for a long time don’t really know
                    about it nor do I feel really comfortable talking
                    about it since I know they wont really understand.

                    People I meet now, new acquaintances or dates I do
                    tell the whole thing to since it's less complicated.
                    My half brother (mom remarried) is open to it and curious but
                    he's just too tight with money to get the test yet but wants to.

                    My mother is in denial and when I sent her the results
                    conveniently noticed only the Native American, even though it
                    was a smaller amount ("I guess that’s where the cheekbones
                    come from") and completely avoided the "Sub-Saharan-African"
                    ("I didn't really know what that meant" was her response!)
                    And I explained it but then saw the futility of it. I guess
                    she's get it once the Mixed-Race comics I'm making come out.

                    One thing I have done is tell my kids about even though it
                    doesn’t really make sense to them since their mom is Dominican
                    and they are around a lot of Hispanics, so “black” is something
                    associated with a more distinctly dark complexion and
                    features. But I also explained to them about the history and
                    significance of it in the US so they are starting to get it.
                     

                     
                    tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...> wrote:


                    Interesting, you need to write a book.

                    In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                    back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                    I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                    But was this news tramatic for you somehow?


                    From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                    [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
                    On Behalf Of
                    j s
                    Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                    To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                    Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                    [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]


                    Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                    was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                    asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                    mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                    Of course she didn't know anything about it
                    and I started to think my father, who was
                    no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                    Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                    maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                    look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                    my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                    (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                    the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                    silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                    robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                    the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                    types of stories were frequently created to
                    explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                    had arrived in new places with no possessions
                    or real history) and it all made sense.

                    Up until then the family had said how there was
                    Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                    but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                    In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                    history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                    research she said "don't go back too far,
                    you're liable to find the tar brush!"
                      
                    tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@gmail. com> wrote:


                    How did the conversation come up, if you don't mind me asking?

                    Lynne


                    From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                    [mailto:Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups.com ]
                    On Behalf Of
                    j s
                    Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                    To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                    Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                    [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]


                    I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                    BTW this book looks interesting


                    docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:


                    Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                    It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                    was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                    To this day I have family members
                    that describe themselves as Italian.

                    Dustin




                    > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                    > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                    > Muncie , Ind. , and told him, "Life is
                    > going to be different from now
                    on.
                    >
                    > In Virginia you were white boys.
                    > In Indiana , you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                    >
                    > I want you to remember that you're the
                    > same today that you were yesterday.
                    >
                    > But people in Indiana will
                    > treat you differently.
                    >
                    > The compelling story of just how different
                    > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                    > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                    > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                    > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
                    >
                    > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                    > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
                    >
                    > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
                    >
                    > The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                    > TODAY Best-Selling Books
                    list.
                    >
                    > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                    > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                    > [categorized / identified] father when
                    > interracial relationships were still
                    > against the law in Virginia .
                    >
                    > His light-skinned father told people
                    > he was Italian, and his mother was
                    > disowned by her family in Muncie .
                    >
                    > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                    > that failed partly because the Korean
                    > War ended and partly because Williams'
                    > charismatic father drank heavily.
                    >
                    > Eventually, Williams' mother left
                    > the family [due to domestic violence].
                    > She took her two youngest children
                    > but left Williams and his brother
                    > Mike with their father.
                    >
                    > The two sons would not se or hear
                    > from their mother for a decade.
                    >
                    > With
                    their father, the two boys headed
                    > to Muncie , where they discovered that
                    > life for "black" boys was very
                    > different than for white boys.
                    >
                    > "I was the same person, but because
                    > my heritage, I was treated very
                    > differently, " Williams says.
                    >
                    > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                    > and Williams was denied an academic award
                    > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
                    >
                    > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                    > at first with their paternal grandmother,
                    > who had worked at the tavern back
                    > in Virginia , where the boys knew
                    > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
                    >
                    > No one had mentioned she
                    > was their father's mother.
                    >
                    > "She was very angry about that."
                    >
                    > Now the dean of Ohio
                    State University College
                    > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                    > counseled many minority students and they told
                    > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
                    >
                    > A top student and high school athlete,
                    > Williams put himself through Ball
                    > State University while working
                    > full time as a sheriff.
                    >
                    > He also attended law school and
                    > has published legal textbooks.
                    >
                    > When Williams was growing up in Muncie ,
                    > where the KKK had been active for many
                    > years, there was strict racial segregation
                    >
                    > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                    > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
                    >
                    > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                    > `skin-color' --- - it's
                    "race" and
                    > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
                    >
                    > His white grandmother lived less
                    > than 10 minutes away in Muncie ,
                    > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
                    >
                    > After they begged for their mother's
                    > address so they could write her, she
                    > ordered them out of her car, saying,
                    > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
                    >
                    > Only his mother's youngest sister
                    > kept in touch with Williams.
                    >
                    > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                    > their community accepted the two boys
                    > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
                    >
                    > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                    > Those were the people who were supporting us.
                    > I became proud of my heritage.
                    > I realized who I was.
                    >
                    > Moreover Williams had seen his father
                    > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                    > `White' and the pain he
                    suffered
                    > emotionally at this self-denial.
                    >
                    > Economically, however, "passing"
                    > generated much more money.
                    >
                    > Back in Virginia , his father's businesses
                    > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
                    >
                    > After the family moved to Muncie , the
                    > best job his 41-year-old father, who
                    > had attended Howard University , could
                    > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
                    >
                    > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                    > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                    > providing them with a stable home.
                    >
                    > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                    > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
                    >
                    > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                    > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                    > and his now-deceased
                    father who, despite
                    > his drinking and difficulties, always
                    > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
                    >
                    > His mother, however, remains a wound.
                    >
                    > Williams understands why she left her husband,
                    > but she has never apologized or even admitted
                    > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
                    >
                    > (She periodically returned to Muncie
                    > yet never contacted her sons. )
                    > When he saw her at age 20,
                    > "She didn't want to talk to us about
                    > how we had survived, what we had
                    > gone through," Williams says.
                    > "She was in denial. "
                    > When Williams told her recently
                    > that the book was to be published,
                    > "she was not happy about it."
                    >
                    > Williams traveled back to Muncie
                    > recently and ... visited his
                    > elementary school and [discovered]
                    > "life has
                    not changed a lot in 31 years"
                    > in terms of what "black" children
                    > can expect from this world.
                    >
                    > While he believes there have been
                    > "some advances in race relations,there
                    > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
                    >
                    > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                    > for whites to understand how "overpowering
                    > and overshadowing the perceptions about
                    > "blacks" in this society can be.
                    > "It's very difficult"
                    >
                    > <<<<<
                    >
                    > BOOK EXCERPT:
                    >
                    > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                    > to work for us in the tavern?'
                    > Dad's lower lip quivered.
                    > He look ill.
                    > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                    > I wondered, or was it something
                    > that had happened on the trip?
                    > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                    > He paused, then slowly added,
                    > `But she's really my momma.
                    > That means she's your grandmother. '
                    >
                    `But that can't be, Dad!
                    > She's Colored!'
                    > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                    > the other white passengers on the bus.
                    > `That's right, Billy,'
                    > he continued.
                    > `She's Colored.
                    > That makes you
                    > Part-Colored, too.'...
                    > I didn't understand Day.
                    > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                    > My skin was white.
                    > All of us are white, I said to myself.
                    > But for the first time, I had to admit
                    > Dad didn't exactly look white.
                    > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                    > as I sat there trying to
                    > classify my own father...
                    > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                    > `I don't wanta be Colored.
                    > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                    > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                    > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                    > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                    > The veil dropped from his face and features.
                    > Before
                    my eyes he was transformed
                    > from a swarthy Italian to his true
                    > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                    > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                    > We were Colored!
                    > After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                    > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
                    >
                    > From `Life on the Color Line'
                    >
                    > Dawn D.
                    > Bennett-Alexander
                    >
                    > >>>>>
                    >
                    > ]]]]]
                    >
                     

                  • tlbaker1
                    Jeff the tragic hexadecaroon ;) You are too funny, I am a little rusty in geometry, I had to look this up, LOLOLOL, don t you laugh, though!!!! You are saying
                    Message 9 of 14 , Nov 4, 2006
                    • 0 Attachment

                      Jeff the tragic hexadecaroon ;)


                      You are too funny, I am a little rusty in geometry,
                      I had to look this up, LOLOLOL, don't you laugh, though!!!!

                      You are saying you are 1/16 a person-of-color,

                      Yes?


                      But seriuosly, these are interesting findings for you and if
                      you mother and other friends are not supportive at least you
                      have your brother and you new acquaintences who will understand.

                      What is there not to understand, they simply choose
                      not be open to your ancestry for one reason or another.


                      My niece's mother is Dominican, she is 9.
                      It will be interesting how she will
                      relate to her ancestry when she grows up.

                       

                      Lynne

                       

                       


                      From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                      [mailto: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com ]
                      On Behalf Of
                      j s
                      Sent: Saturday, November 04, 2006 8:43 AM
                      To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                      Subject: Jeff the tragic hexadecaroon ;)

                       

                      I suppose it was "traumatic" in the sense that it was
                      something I was mentally unprepared for, growing
                      up and seeing myself as a White kid in the south.

                      But for a long time I thought it was all in my mind and that
                      I was simply "passing" for “black” with my lips and hair.
                      I was never really comfortable with being "Mixed" until
                      a few years ago. I think that was because I simply had
                      no proof, and being basically a logical person, I needed
                      it to be more than wishful thinking or hope etc.
                      Also there had been this thing my dad ( who was a con-man,
                      literally) said about how his mother was Sicilian and then
                      an Arab when I was a kid, and really preoccupied with Egypt,
                      North Africa in general, so for many years I really thought
                      he was the source. But then I received copies of his
                      parents and grandparents birth certificates etc and
                      it was all very Anglo names and everyone was White.
                      HOWEVER, his grandmother's maiden name Hughte was
                      something I could only find among Native Americans in the
                      south west, specifically Zuni, Pueblo and Navajo (perhaps a
                      derivative of the tribe "Ute" or "Paiute" from that area) so
                      I began to wonder if all the time I thought he was "passing”
                      as white and looking for an exotic explanation for it,
                      in fact he was hiding from the Native American in him.

                      But what was most frustrating was
                      the sheer lack of evidence in any way!

                      So, a few years ago, to settle it once and for all, I took the
                      ancestry by DNA test ( around $200) and it came back with 88%
                      European, 7% Sub-Saharan African and 5% Native American.
                      When I looked at it logically it kind of made sense -
                      there was no way any of my great grandparents were
                      more than Mulatto or else it would have shown up in
                      documents as Black, and the dilution through the
                      next generations was about the same as my results:
                      1/2 - 1/4/ - 1/8 - 1/16 or 50% - 25% - 12.5% - 6.25%
                      rounded up to 7% with the Native American, for my
                      great grandmother to have the native last name and
                      appear as White on the documents she was probably
                      half, so the amount of transmission is the same.
                      The company says in their literature that their tests seem
                      to validate the genuine percentages when testing biracial
                      children etc, but one must also allow that each person is
                      an individual and it's not a uniform distribution -
                      i.e. siblings of the same parents will not get the exact
                      amount, but common sense tells us that anyway just by
                      looking at kids and seeing which parent they more resemble.

                      What has been weird though, is that this was a sort of silent
                      struggle for many years because I had no proof, and it would go
                      from being a non-issue in my mind to being of great importance.
                      It was something I didn't really share a lot so people
                      that have known me for a long time don’t really know
                      about it nor do I feel really comfortable talking
                      about it since I know they wont really understand.

                      People I meet now, new acquaintances or dates I do
                      tell the whole thing to since it's less complicated.
                      My half brother (mom remarried) is open to it and curious but
                      he's just too tight with money to get the test yet but wants to.

                      My mother is in denial and when I sent her the results
                      conveniently noticed only the Native American, even though it
                      was a smaller amount ("I guess that’s where the cheekbones
                      come from") and completely avoided the "Sub-Saharan-African"
                      ("I didn't really know what that meant" was her response!)
                      And I explained it but then saw the futility of it. I guess
                      she's get it once the Mixed-Race comics I'm making come out.

                      One thing I have done is tell my kids about even though it
                      doesn’t really make sense to them since their mom is Dominican
                      and they are around a lot of Hispanics, so “black” is something
                      associated with a more distinctly dark complexion and
                      features. But I also explained to them about the history and
                      significance of it in the US so they are starting to get it.

                       


                       
                      tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...> wrote:



                      Interesting, you need to write a book.

                      In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                      back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                      I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                      But was this news tramatic for you somehow?



                      From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                      [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
                      On Behalf Of
                      j s
                      Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                      To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                      Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                      [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]



                      Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                      was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                      asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                      mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                      Of course she didn't know anything about it
                      and I started to think my father, who was
                      no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                      Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                      maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                      look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                      my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                      (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                      the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                      silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                      robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                      the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                      types of stories were frequently created to
                      explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                      had arrived in new places with no possessions
                      or real history) and it all made sense.

                      Up until then the family had said how there was
                      Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                      but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                      In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                      history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                      research she said "don't go back too far,
                      you're liable to find the tar brush!"

                        
                      tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@gmail. com> wrote:



                      How did the conversation come up, if you don't mind me asking?


                      Lynne

                       


                      From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                      [mailto: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com ]
                      On Behalf Of
                      j s
                      Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                      To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                      Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                      [Racial Identity on The ''Color'' Line]



                      I started finding out at 14 so I understand.

                      BTW this book looks interesting


                      `docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:



                      Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                      It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                      was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                      To this day I have family members
                      that describe themselves as Italian.

                      Dustin




                      > When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                      > his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                      > Muncie ,
                      Ind. , and told him, "Life is
                      > going to be different from now on.
                      >
                      > In Virginia
                      you were white boys.
                      > In Indiana ,
                      you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                      >
                      > I want you to remember that you're the
                      > same today that you were yesterday.
                      >
                      > But people in Indiana
                      will
                      > treat you differently.
                      >
                      > The compelling story of just how different
                      > that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                      > much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                      > Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                      > Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).
                      >
                      > Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                      > swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.
                      >
                      > Overnight, his racial identity changed.
                      >
                      > The memoir is No. 232 on the
                      w:st="on"> USA
                      > TODAY Best-Selling Books list.
                      >
                      > Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                      > `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                      > [categorized / identified] father when
                      > interracial relationships were still
                      > against the law in
                      w:st="on">Virginia .
                      >
                      > His light-skinned father told people
                      > he was Italian, and his mother was
                      > disowned by her family in
                      w:st="on">Muncie .
                      >
                      > The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                      > that failed partly because the Korean
                      > War ended and partly because Williams'
                      > charismatic father drank heavily.
                      >
                      > Eventually, Williams' mother left
                      > the family [due to domestic violence].
                      > She took her two youngest children
                      > but left Williams and his brother
                      > Mike with their father.
                      >
                      > The two sons would not se or hear
                      > from their mother for a decade.
                      >
                      > With their father, the two boys headed
                      > to Muncie ,
                      where they discovered that
                      > life for "black" boys was very
                      > different than for white boys.
                      >
                      > "I was the same person, but because
                      > my heritage, I was treated very
                      > differently, " Williams says.
                      >
                      > Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                      > and Williams was denied an academic award
                      > in the sixth grade because of his "race".
                      >
                      > Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                      > at first with their paternal grandmother,
                      > who had worked at the tavern back
                      > in Virginia ,
                      where the boys knew
                      > her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.
                      >
                      > No one had mentioned she
                      > was their father's mother.
                      >
                      > "She was very angry about that."
                      >
                      > Now the dean of
                      w:st="on">Ohio State University College
                      > of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                      > counseled many minority students and they told
                      > him how inspiring and affirming his story was.
                      >
                      > A top student and high school athlete,
                      > Williams put himself through Ball
                      > State
                      University while working
                      > full time as a sheriff.
                      >
                      > He also attended law school and
                      > has published legal textbooks.
                      >
                      > When Williams was growing up in
                      w:st="on">Muncie ,
                      > where the KKK had been active for many
                      > years, there was strict racial segregation
                      >
                      > With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                      > has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.
                      >
                      > But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                      > `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                      > "racial" heritage," Williams says.
                      >
                      > His white grandmother lived less
                      > than 10 minutes away in
                      w:st="on">Muncie ,
                      > yet brutally rejected the two boys.
                      >
                      > After they begged for their mother's
                      > address so they could write her, she
                      > ordered them out of her car, saying,
                      > "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"
                      >
                      > Only his mother's youngest sister
                      > kept in touch with Williams.
                      >
                      > By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                      > their community accepted the two boys
                      > after some playground scuffles and taunts.
                      >
                      > "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                      > Those were the people who were supporting us.
                      > I became proud of my heritage.
                      > I realized who I was.
                      >
                      > Moreover Williams had seen his father
                      > "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                      > `White' and the pain he suffered
                      > emotionally at this self-denial.
                      >
                      > Economically, however, "passing"
                      > generated much more money.
                      >
                      > Back in Virginia ,
                      his father's businesses
                      > grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.
                      >
                      > After the family moved to
                      w:st="on">Muncie , the
                      > best job his 41-year-old father, who
                      > had attended
                      w:st="on">Howard University , could
                      > get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.
                      >
                      > What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                      > named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                      > providing them with a stable home.
                      >
                      > At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                      > domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.
                      >
                      > "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                      > who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                      > and his now-deceased father who, despite
                      > his drinking and difficulties, always
                      > encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.
                      >
                      > His mother, however, remains a wound.
                      >
                      > Williams understands why she left her husband,
                      > but she has never apologized or even admitted
                      > that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.
                      >
                      > (She periodically returned to
                      w:st="on">Muncie
                      > yet never contacted her sons. )
                      > When he saw her at age 20,
                      > "She didn't want to talk to us about
                      > how we had survived, what we had
                      > gone through," Williams says.
                      > "She was in denial. "
                      > When Williams told her recently
                      > that the book was to be published,
                      > "she was not happy about it."
                      >
                      > Williams traveled back to
                      w:st="on">Muncie
                      > recently and ... visited his
                      > elementary school and [discovered]
                      > "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                      > in terms of what "black" children
                      > can expect from this world.
                      >
                      > While he believes there have been
                      > "some advances in race relations,there
                      > continues to be a lot of divisions. "
                      >
                      > Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                      > for whites to understand how "overpowering
                      > and overshadowing the perceptions about
                      > "blacks" in this society can be.
                      > "It's very difficult"
                      >
                      > <<<<<
                      >
                      > BOOK EXCERPT:
                      >
                      > `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                      > to work for us in the tavern?'
                      > Dad's lower lip quivered.
                      > He look ill.
                      > Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                      > I wondered, or was it something
                      > that had happened on the trip?
                      > `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                      > He paused, then slowly added,
                      > `But she's really my momma.
                      > That means she's your grandmother. '
                      > `But that can't be, Dad!
                      > She's Colored!'
                      > I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                      > the other white passengers on the bus.
                      > `That's right, Billy,'
                      > he continued.
                      > `She's Colored.
                      > That makes you
                      > Part-Colored, too.'...
                      > I didn't understand Day.
                      > I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                      > My skin was white.
                      > All of us are white, I said to myself.
                      > But for the first time, I had to admit
                      > Dad didn't exactly look white.
                      > His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                      > as I sat there trying to
                      > classify my own father...
                      > `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                      > `I don't wanta be Colored.
                      > We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                      > I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                      > grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                      > I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                      > The veil dropped from his face and features.
                      > Before my eyes he was transformed
                      > from a swarthy Italian to his true
                      > self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                      > My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                      > We were Colored!
                      > After ten years in
                      w:st="on">Virginia on the white side
                      > of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.
                      >
                      > From `Life on the Color Line'
                      >
                      > Dawn D.
                      > Bennett-Alexander
                      >
                      > >>>>>
                      >
                      > ]]]]]
                      >

                       


                    • docilechicken24
                      The search for my background has been a headache, but at the same time, it has defined my adult life. I am a masters student in Afro-Am Studies right now. I
                      Message 10 of 14 , Nov 6, 2006
                      • 0 Attachment
                        The search for my background has been a headache,
                        but at the same time, it has defined my adult life.

                        I am a masters student in Afro-Am Studies right now.
                        I was a Physics undergrad.
                        This mess has completely switched the direction of my life.

                        For one thing, my color, race was brought up in
                        high school but I trusted my family's explanations.
                        Why would they lie to me, were my feelings.
                        I couldn't imagine that.
                        I wouldn't say my family flat out lied, but there
                        was and continues to be a bunch of covering up.

                        Anyway.

                        Basically, when I went to my undergraduate
                        college, away from my parental security blanket,
                        I started noticing, basically that I was the only person
                        who recognized me as White or as I called it, European.

                        This got me thinking, what if I'm not White?

                        In high school I prided myself on being a dark skinned
                        White man and enjoyed the obvious contradiction.

                        I was steeped in what I call the "White" frame of mind.
                        Obviously not all White people will conceive
                        of things in the way I describe, but everything
                        I describe were prevalent attitudes among
                        me and my White peers and my family, the
                        White side and “black” side (all of whom
                        still to this day identifies as White).

                        My White frame of mind made it easy to feel contempt to
                        Hispanics because they didn't speak English, it made it easy to
                        resent women and minority groups that got access to scholarships
                        that I thought I deserved, and I had no conception of race,
                        I figured it was a thing of the past and I didn't know
                        and didn't care what they were making a fuss about.

                        This is part of the reason why finding I had
                        ‘color’ in me was so difficult to deal with.

                        My shortsighted world view where everything White
                        is right had to go in order for me to accept myself.

                        It took me about 3-6 months to become okay with
                        the possibility that I may have some black in me.

                        I always tried to be honest to myself so I accepted the
                        possibility and started researching my past and my culture.

                        Until high school or maybe college, I believed that most
                        French people were darker than the other Europeans because my
                        dad's family said they were French and they had some ’color’
                        to them, we were darker than all the other White people.

                        (Funny story, in high school when I went to the house
                        of a friend of mine that was in a poorer area, I got
                        so scared of the black people that were around.
                        I routinely forgot I had brown skin and acted scared and
                        nervous like I actually had White skin, not that having
                        White skin would have put me in any particular danger,
                        but I learned somewhere along the line that black people
                        will hurt White people so I became very afraid of black people.)

                        Anyway, I started looking into my culture, and also
                        asking my mother about me and I started compiling
                        in my mind physical traits that I and family members
                        had that were in common with "black" people.
                        I started researching Creole's and I
                        starting looking for genealogy research.

                        I also started talking to a lot of people about my suspicions.
                        There was the general reaction as I was talking about my
                        suspicions to others I knew, family, random White people
                        I knew, whoever, I didn't see anything wrong with it.

                        As I started mentioning my suspicions, I started
                        hearing a lot of, ‘no you're not “black”’,
                        ‘no I don't believe you’, or family members started
                        jokingly using racial slurs to express my color.

                        I heard the n***** word more after that
                        than I did my entire life previously.
                        Only once in my childhood I was called it.

                        This reaction, although subtle, got me thinking that people
                        believed that something was wrong with being “black”.
                        I had a cousin say, it all makes sense, but I can't believe
                        it, I can't believe my grandma is a “black” woman.

                        These people had a vision of “black” people that was quite
                        negative, so I figured that they liked me, and I didn't fit
                        into their negative stereotype, so I must not have been “black”.

                        My close friends supported me, but when it came to my family,
                        nobody understood where I was coming from, why I was doing this.
                        I wouldn't even mention this to my grandparents directly.
                        There was a battle going on under the surface of my conversations,
                        me trying to find out more about who they were and clues to their
                        racial identity, and them trying to lead me in a different direction.

                        It took about 3 years for me to get my hands on Census
                        information that proved to me that I had some African Roots.

                        To my surprise I found out it wasn't
                        one ancestor, it was all of them.
                        All of my ancestors as far as I have gone
                        back so far have been Mulattoes.
                        My grandparents were passing.

                        The summer after I found out I took a science internship in
                        New Orleans not because I liked the topic, but because I
                        wanted to find a way to go to Louisiana so I could learn more.
                        I met some of my grandma's relatives for the first time.
                        My grandparents took pains throughout their
                        pasts to keep these relatives away from us.
                        They were darker too.
                        They didn't even consider themselves
                        "black” though, or even ‘Colored’.

                        Why this is happening confounded me and made me angry.
                        I didn't like the implications that something
                        was wrong with having black in me.
                        It meant that since I do, something was wrong with me,
                        and I had too much pride in who I was to accept that bs.

                        Since then, I've been trying to learn and
                        get comfortable with my new identity.

                        It took me quite a while to shed my White self image
                        and actually believe that people saw a ‘Colored’ person
                        when they looked at me, cause even after I knew I
                        was “black”, I still felt like I was a White guy.

                        Just since being here I found out that like 3 years ago
                        a cousin of mine had a genetic test done and not only was there
                        black and native american as I suspected but also east asian.

                        This meant that my grandparents knew longer than I did
                        their ancestry, and it has been a bit unnerving knowing
                        that I have been tiptoeing around and they have been
                        playing along, with something that they already knew.

                        This identity redefinition and transformation has also
                        caused problems with my White family, including my mother.

                        My mother and sisters wanted me to continue identifying
                        as White and felt offended that I would do otherwise.

                        The excuse was, I only had a tinsy winsy bit, almost nothing,
                        not significant, you're blowing it out of proportion.

                        You can imagine how infuriating that was,
                        cause that statement inferred that I was
                        just making up the last 3 or 4 years of
                        my life and I was the cause of my growing
                        feelings of alienation and isolation.

                        Because I had the audacity to express preference in
                        females with darker skin, my mother also decided
                        to get offended over that and start feeling insecure.

                        So all this time when I am quite confused,
                        very hurt, a bit angry, and feeling very
                        alone, I also had to take extra care to
                        make sure she knew that I loved her,
                        thought she was beautiful, etc.

                        Obviously, I haven't healed all the way from this experience,
                        I have felt betrayed by virtually all of my family members.

                        I believe I will eventually foster in, especially my dad's
                        family a sense of pride for all that they are and my
                        mom and my sisters will eventually understand me.

                        Until them, I am the only ‘person-of-color’
                        in my family, and because my identity has not
                        been validated by them, I feel illegitimate
                        and quite insecure about the decisions I have
                        made because I don't really look black
                        (although I don't look White either)
                        so basically the only people who see me
                        as a “black” man are those that I tell
                        I am “black”, and since my family doesn't
                        reinforce my identity, I am in this
                        strange state of isolation or limbo
                        or something that I dislike greatly.

                        I don't regret my decisions one bit though.

                        This is my story.

                        Finding this out has literally flipped my life 180
                        degrees and I am a very different person now
                        than I was before because of these experiences.

                        What counts though is that I am happier
                        with myself now than I ever have been
                        and these experiences have made me
                        a better more understanding person.

                        I have learned patience also.

                        Thanks for letting me share.
                        Getting my story out to anyone
                        that will listen means a lot to me.
                        It gives me a sense that
                        my experiences are not in vain.

                        (Not to paint my family as villains,
                        cause they are not, I love them to death.
                        If you were ever around me much, you'd see very
                        quickly that my family is the center of my life.
                        I'm always talking about them, if
                        you know me, you know my family.
                        But this is precisely what made this
                        issue so difficult for me to deal with.)

                        Dustin





                        In Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com,
                        "multiracialbookclub" <soaptalk@...> wrote:





                        Jeff,

                        Are you comfortable sharing more with us?

                        If instance ....

                        How did you respond to having your suspicions
                        or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?

                        What made you decide to go ahead and take the
                        DNA test that backed up what you had learned?

                        Was it difficult find a valid DNA testing company?

                        How does your immediate family react to your
                        openness about your Multi-Racial lineage? [:-$]

                        How have your friends reacted? [:-/]

                        How did you react (both then and now)? [:O]

                        Thanks and have a great day. [:)]


                        --M



                        P.S.

                        Dustin -- can you also share a bit more about how you
                        discovered your full-lineage and your reaction (as well
                        as that of your family and friends), to learning of it?



                        Thanks.




                        In Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups
                        <mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.
                        com, "tlbaker1" <tlbaker1@wrote:



                        Interesting, you need to write a book.

                        In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                        back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                        I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                        But was this news tramatic for you somehow?



                        From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                        [mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com]
                        On Behalf Of j s
                        Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                        To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                        Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                        [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]


                        Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                        was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                        asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                        mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                        Of course she didn't know anything about it
                        and I started to think my father, who was
                        no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                        Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                        maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                        look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                        my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                        (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                        the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                        silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                        robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                        the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                        types of stories were frequently created to
                        explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                        had arrived in new places with no possessions
                        or real history) and it all made sense.

                        Up until then the family had said how there was
                        Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                        but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                        In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                        history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                        research she said "don't go back too far,
                        you're liable to find the tar brush!"



                        tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...wrote:



                        How did the conversation come
                        up, if you don't mind me asking?

                        Lynne




                        From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                        [mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com]
                        On Behalf Of j s
                        Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                        To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                        Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                        [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]



                        I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                        BTW this book looks interesting




                        docilechicken24 <kjoule70@...wrote:



                        Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                        It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                        was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                        To this day I have family members
                        that describe themselves as Italian.

                        Dustin












                        When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                        his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                        Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
                        going to be different from now on.
                        In Virginia you were white boys.
                        In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                        I want you to remember that you're the
                        same today that you were yesterday.

                        But people in Indiana will
                        treat you differently.
                        The compelling story of just how different
                        that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                        much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                        Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                        Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).

                        Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                        swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.

                        Overnight, his racial identity changed.

                        The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                        TODAY Best-Selling Books list.

                        Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                        `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                        [categorized / identified] father when
                        interracial relationships were still
                        against the law in Virginia.

                        His light-skinned father told people
                        he was Italian, and his mother was
                        disowned by her family in Muncie.

                        The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                        that failed partly because the Korean
                        War ended and partly because Williams'
                        charismatic father drank heavily.

                        Eventually, Williams' mother left
                        the family [due to domestic violence].
                        She took her two youngest children
                        but left Williams and his brother
                        Mike with their father.

                        The two sons would not se or hear
                        from their mother for a decade.

                        With their father, the two boys headed
                        to Muncie, where they discovered that
                        life for "black" boys was very
                        different than for white boys.

                        "I was the same person, but because
                        my heritage, I was treated very
                        differently," Williams says.

                        Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                        and Williams was denied an academic award
                        in the sixth grade because of his "race".

                        Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                        at first with their paternal grandmother,
                        who had worked at the tavern back
                        in Virginia, where the boys knew
                        her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.

                        No one had mentioned she
                        was their father's mother.

                        "She was very angry about that."

                        Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                        of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                        counseled many minority students and they told
                        him how inspiring and affirming his story was.

                        A top student and high school athlete,
                        Williams put himself through Ball
                        State University while working
                        full time as a sheriff.

                        He also attended law school and
                        has published legal textbooks.

                        When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
                        where the KKK had been active for many
                        years, there was strict racial segregation

                        With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                        has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.

                        But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                        `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                        "racial" heritage," Williams says.

                        His white grandmother lived less
                        than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
                        yet brutally rejected the two boys.

                        After they begged for their mother's
                        address so they could write her, she
                        ordered them out of her car, saying,
                        "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"

                        Only his mother's youngest sister
                        kept in touch with Williams.

                        By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                        their community accepted the two boys
                        after some playground scuffles and taunts.

                        "We became "black" ["identified"].
                        Those were the people who were supporting us.
                        I became proud of my heritage.
                        I realized who I was.

                        Moreover Williams had seen his father
                        "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                        `White' and the pain he suffered
                        emotionally at this self-denial.

                        Economically, however, "passing"
                        generated much more money.

                        Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
                        grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.

                        After the family moved to Muncie, the
                        best job his 41-year-old father, who
                        had attended Howard University, could
                        get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.

                        What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                        named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                        providing them with a stable home.

                        At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                        domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.

                        "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                        who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                        and his now-deceased father who, despite
                        his drinking and difficulties, always
                        encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.

                        His mother, however, remains a wound.

                        Williams understands why she left her husband,
                        but she has never apologized or even admitted
                        that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.

                        (She periodically returned to Muncie
                        yet never contacted her sons. )
                        When he saw her at age 20,
                        "She didn't want to talk to us about
                        how we had survived, what we had
                        gone through," Williams says.
                        "She was in denial. "
                        When Williams told her recently
                        that the book was to be published,
                        "she was not happy about it."

                        Williams traveled back to Muncie
                        recently and ... visited his
                        elementary school and [discovered]
                        "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                        in terms of what "black" children
                        can expect from this world.

                        While he believes there have been
                        "some advances in race relations,there
                        continues to be a lot of divisions. "

                        Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                        for whites to understand how "overpowering
                        and overshadowing the perceptions about
                        "blacks" in this society can be.
                        "It's very difficult"

                        <<<<<

                        BOOK EXCERPT:

                        `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                        to work for us in the tavern?'
                        Dad's lower lip quivered.
                        He look ill.
                        Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                        I wondered, or was it something
                        that had happened on the trip?
                        `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                        He paused, then slowly added,
                        `But she's really my momma.
                        That means she's your grandmother. '
                        `But that can't be, Dad!
                        She's Colored!'
                        I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                        the other white passengers on the bus.
                        `That's right, Billy,'
                        he continued.
                        `She's Colored.
                        That makes you
                        Part-Colored, too.'...
                        I didn't understand Day.
                        I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                        My skin was white.
                        All of us are white, I said to myself.
                        But for the first time, I had to admit
                        Dad didn't exactly look white.
                        His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                        as I sat there trying to
                        classify my own father...
                        `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                        `I don't wanta be Colored.
                        We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                        I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                        grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                        I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                        The veil dropped from his face and features.
                        Before my eyes he was transformed
                        from a swarthy Italian to his true
                        self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                        My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                        We were Colored!
                        After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                        of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.

                        From `Life on the Color Line'

                        Dawn D.
                        Bennett-Alexander


                        ]]]]]
                      • j s
                        Ironically, were that blood to be Native American it would have been an ENTIRELY different result. Which really shows how people and this society is. I can
                        Message 11 of 14 , Nov 7, 2006
                        • 0 Attachment
                          Ironically, were that blood to be Native American
                          it would have been an ENTIRELY different result.
                          Which really shows how people and this society is.

                          I can relate to ALOT of what you wrote. I think, during
                          my "awakening", for lack of a better word, I probably had
                          a few moments that, in retrospect, I'm not so proud of;
                          moments where I consciously behaved "black" in an effort
                          for those around me to see it so I wouldn't have to explain
                          it. But it was just as much a lie and not really me,
                          almost my stereotype of what I thought I should be like.

                          Now I look back at that time with some embarrassment
                          and see myself as a bit of a buffoon. I needed to
                          realize that acceptance of what was inside of me
                          didn't automatically negate who I had been all my
                          life and there was nothing inherently wrong with my
                          likes, dislikes and preferences. There was no need
                          to carry myself a different way nor speak ebonics or
                          any other stuff I did in my attempt to find my way.
                          Having black in you is almost a political or
                          philosophical situation because it forces one
                          to re-examine their worldview, the society
                          around them and their place in it.

                          Many blacks I met were quite quick to accept me but I also
                          discovered a silent pressure to apply the One-Drop rule
                          and for me to not express White cultural expressions
                          which made them uncomfortable. Things I liked were seen
                          as silly or nerdy, and I found myself "dumbing down" my
                          vocabulary and subject matter. Again realizing, after
                          really looking in the mirror, that I didn't fit in
                          there either, and that I was not being myself. I simply
                          didn't have 'the commonality of experience' and many
                          cultural attitudes or behaviors felt really alien
                          to me. I still needed to be true to myself but
                          didn't want to accept the true implications - that
                          it meant I was even more alone or cut-off than
                          before. But it was something I had to do for me.

                          I remember a book entitled "Crisis for the black intellectual"
                          and that sort of summed/continues to sum it up for me and
                          has been why I have been able to accept the DNA and the
                          implications without needing to fit in or be accepted as
                          black. I can appreciate the impact it has had on my
                          life without the need to fit into a specific lifestyle.
                          I draw my inspiration and strength from the vibrancy
                          and achievement of the early "black" intellectuals
                          (who were basically all Mulattoes, if even that much)
                          The Harlem Renaissance and The Civil Rights Movement.

                          I also can appreciate African culture and our history
                          in this country for what it is. But I also don't have
                          a need to get dreads, start wearing kente cloth nor
                          changing my name to something "African" to express it.
                          Those would be as silly to me as running around in a
                          kilt because I'm also Scottish. Besides that behavior
                          is usually for the benefit of others, to affect
                          their perceptions of us and I simply am no longer
                          motivated by external approval or validations.

                          I also no longer made blanket apologies for short-comings in
                          ”the black community” and see the White man as inherently evil.

                          It's all, like myself, a shade of gray ;)

                          I'm sure you have or will experience a lot of this
                          but I'm sure you will find your way since you had
                          the strength to confront it all in the first place.
                          Feel free to write me directly.

                          Regards,
                          Jeff

                           
                           
                          docilechicken24 <kjoule70@...> wrote:


                          The search for my background has been a headache,
                          but at the same time, it has defined my adult life.

                          I am a masters student in Afro-Am Studies right now.
                          I was a Physics undergrad.
                          This mess has completely switched the direction of my life.

                          For one thing, my color, race was brought up in
                          high school but I trusted my family's explanations.
                          Why would they lie to me, were my feelings.
                          I couldn't imagine that.
                          I wouldn't say my family flat out lied, but there
                          was and continues to be a bunch of covering up.

                          Anyway.

                          Basically, when I went to my undergraduate
                          college, away from my parental security blanket,
                          I started noticing, basically that I was the only person
                          who recognized me as White or as I called it, European.

                          This got me thinking, what if I'm not White?

                          In high school I prided myself on being a dark skinned
                          White man and enjoyed the obvious contradiction.

                          I was steeped in what I call the "White" frame of mind.
                          Obviously not all White people will conceive
                          of things in the way I describe, but everything
                          I describe were prevalent attitudes among
                          me and my White peers and my family, the
                          White side and “black” side (all of whom
                          still to this day identifies as White).

                          My White frame of mind made it easy to feel contempt to
                          Hispanics because they didn't speak English, it made it easy to
                          resent women and minority groups that got access to scholarships
                          that I thought I deserved, and I had no conception of race,
                          I figured it was a thing of the past and I didn't know
                          and didn't care what they were making a fuss about.

                          This is part of the reason why finding I had
                          ‘color’ in me was so difficult to deal with.

                          My shortsighted world view where everything White
                          is right had to go in order for me to accept myself.

                          It took me about 3-6 months to become okay with
                          the possibility that I may have some black in me.

                          I always tried to be honest to myself so I accepted the
                          possibility and started researching my past and my culture.

                          Until high school or maybe college, I believed that most
                          French people were darker than the other Europeans because my
                          dad's family said they were French and they had some ’color’
                          to them, we were darker than all the other White people.

                          (Funny story, in high school when I went to the house
                          of a friend of mine that was in a poorer area, I got
                          so scared of the black people that were around.
                          I routinely forgot I had brown skin and acted scared and
                          nervous like I actually had White skin, not that having
                          White skin would have put me in any particular danger,
                          but I learned somewhere along the line that black people
                          will hurt White people so I became very afraid of black people.)

                          Anyway, I started looking into my culture, and also
                          asking my mother about me and I started compiling
                          in my mind physical traits that I and family members
                          had that were in common with "black" people.
                          I started researching Creole's and I
                          starting looking for genealogy research.

                          I also started talking to a lot of people about my suspicions.
                          There was the general reaction as I was talking about my
                          suspicions to others I knew, family, random White people
                          I knew, whoever, I didn't see anything wrong with it.

                          As I started mentioning my suspicions, I started
                          hearing a lot of, ‘no you're not “black”’,
                          ‘no I don't believe you’, or family members started
                          jokingly using racial slurs to express my color.

                          I heard the n***** word more after that
                          than I did my entire life previously.
                          Only once in my childhood I was called it.

                          This reaction, although subtle, got me thinking that people
                          believed that something was wrong with being “black”.
                          I had a cousin say, it all makes sense, but I can't believe
                          it, I can't believe my grandma is a “black” woman.

                          These people had a vision of “black” people that was quite
                          negative, so I figured that they liked me, and I didn't fit
                          into their negative stereotype, so I must not have been “black”.

                          My close friends supported me, but when it came to my family,
                          nobody understood where I was coming from, why I was doing this.
                          I wouldn't even mention this to my grandparents directly.
                          There was a battle going on under the surface of my conversations,
                          me trying to find out more about who they were and clues to their
                          racial identity, and them trying to lead me in a different direction.

                          It took about 3 years for me to get my hands on Census
                          information that proved to me that I had some African Roots.

                          To my surprise I found out it wasn't
                          one ancestor, it was all of them.
                          All of my ancestors as far as I have gone
                          back so far have been Mulattoes.
                          My grandparents were passing.

                          The summer after I found out I took a science internship in
                          New Orleans not because I liked the topic, but because I
                          wanted to find a way to go to Louisiana so I could learn more.
                          I met some of my grandma's relatives for the first time.
                          My grandparents took pains throughout their
                          pasts to keep these relatives away from us.
                          They were darker too.
                          They didn't even consider themselves
                          "black” though, or even ‘Colored’.

                          Why this is happening confounded me and made me angry.
                          I didn't like the implications that something
                          was wrong with having black in me.
                          It meant that since I do, something was wrong with me,
                          and I had too much pride in who I was to accept that bs.

                          Since then, I've been trying to learn and
                          get comfortable with my new identity.

                          It took me quite a while to shed my White self image
                          and actually believe that people saw a ‘Colored’ person
                          when they looked at me, cause even after I knew I
                          was “black”, I still felt like I was a White guy.

                          Just since being here I found out that like 3 years ago
                          a cousin of mine had a genetic test done and not only was there
                          black and native american as I suspected but also east asian.

                          This meant that my grandparents knew longer than I did
                          their ancestry, and it has been a bit unnerving knowing
                          that I have been tiptoeing around and they have been
                          playing along, with something that they already knew.

                          This identity redefinition and transformation has also
                          caused problems with my White family, including my mother.

                          My mother and sisters wanted me to continue identifying
                          as White and felt offended that I would do otherwise.

                          The excuse was, I only had a tinsy winsy bit, almost nothing,
                          not significant, you're blowing it out of proportion.

                          You can imagine how infuriating that was,
                          cause that statement inferred that I was
                          just making up the last 3 or 4 years of
                          my life and I was the cause of my growing
                          feelings of alienation and isolation.

                          Because I had the audacity to express preference in
                          females with darker skin, my mother also decided
                          to get offended over that and start feeling insecure.

                          So all this time when I am quite confused,
                          very hurt, a bit angry, and feeling very
                          alone, I also had to take extra care to
                          make sure she knew that I loved her,
                          thought she was beautiful, etc.

                          Obviously, I haven't healed all the way from this experience,
                          I have felt betrayed by virtually all of my family members.

                          I believe I will eventually foster in, especially my dad's
                          family a sense of pride for all that they are and my
                          mom and my sisters will eventually understand me.

                          Until them, I am the only ‘person-of-color’
                          in my family, and because my identity has not
                          been validated by them, I feel illegitimate
                          and quite insecure about the decisions I have
                          made because I don't really look black
                          (although I don't look White either)
                          so basically the only people who see me
                          as a “black” man are those that I tell
                          I am “black”, and since my family doesn't
                          reinforce my identity, I am in this
                          strange state of isolation or limbo
                          or something that I dislike greatly.

                          I don't regret my decisions one bit though.

                          This is my story.

                          Finding this out has literally flipped my life 180
                          degrees and I am a very different person now
                          than I was before because of these experiences.

                          What counts though is that I am happier
                          with myself now than I ever have been
                          and these experiences have made me
                          a better more understanding person.

                          I have learned patience also.

                          Thanks for letting me share.
                          Getting my story out to anyone
                          that will listen means a lot to me.
                          It gives me a sense that
                          my experiences are not in vain.

                          (Not to paint my family as villains,
                          cause they are not, I love them to death.
                          If you were ever around me much, you'd see very
                          quickly that my family is the center of my life.
                          I'm always talking about them, if
                          you know me, you know my family.
                          But this is precisely what made this
                          issue so difficult for me to deal with.)

                          Dustin

                          In Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com,
                          "multiracialbookclu b" <soaptalk@.. .> wrote:

                          Jeff,

                          Are you comfortable sharing more with us?

                          If instance ....

                          How did you respond to having your suspicions
                          or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?

                          What made you decide to go ahead and take the
                          DNA test that backed up what you had learned?

                          Was it difficult find a valid DNA testing company?

                          How does your immediate family react to your
                          openness about your Multi-Racial lineage? [:-$]

                          How have your friends reacted? [:-/]

                          How did you react (both then and now)? [:O]

                          Thanks and have a great day. [:)]

                          --M

                          P.S.

                          Dustin -- can you also share a bit more about how you
                          discovered your full-lineage and your reaction (as well
                          as that of your family and friends), to learning of it?

                          Thanks.

                          In Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups
                          "tlbaker1" <tlbaker1@...> wrote:

                          Interesting, you need to write a book.

                          In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                          back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                          I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                          But was this news tramatic for you somehow?

                          From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                          [mailto:Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com]
                          On Behalf Of j s
                          Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                          To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                          Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                          [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]

                          Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                          was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                          asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                          mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                          Of course she didn't know anything about it
                          and I started to think my father, who was
                          no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                          Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                          maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                          look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                          my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                          (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                          the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                          silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                          robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                          the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                          types of stories were frequently created to
                          explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                          had arrived in new places with no possessions
                          or real history) and it all made sense.

                          Up until then the family had said how there was
                          Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                          but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                          In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                          history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                          research she said "don't go back too far,
                          you're liable to find the tar brush!"

                          tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@.. .wrote:

                          How did the conversation come
                          up, if you don't mind me asking?

                          Lynne

                          From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                          [mailto:Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com]
                          On Behalf Of j s
                          Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                          To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                          Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                          [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]

                          I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                          BTW this book looks interesting

                          docilechicken24 <kjoule70@.. .wrote:

                          Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                          It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                          was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                          To this day I have family members
                          that describe themselves as Italian.

                          Dustin

                          When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                          his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                          Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
                          going to be different from now on.
                          In Virginia you were white boys.
                          In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                          I want you to remember that you're the
                          same today that you were yesterday.

                          But people in Indiana will
                          treat you differently.
                          The compelling story of just how different
                          that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                          much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                          Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                          Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).

                          Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                          swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.

                          Overnight, his racial identity changed.

                          The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                          TODAY Best-Selling Books list.

                          Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                          `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                          [categorized / identified] father when
                          interracial relationships were still
                          against the law in Virginia.

                          His light-skinned father told people
                          he was Italian, and his mother was
                          disowned by her family in Muncie.

                          The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                          that failed partly because the Korean
                          War ended and partly because Williams'
                          charismatic father drank heavily.

                          Eventually, Williams' mother left
                          the family [due to domestic violence].
                          She took her two youngest children
                          but left Williams and his brother
                          Mike with their father.

                          The two sons would not se or hear
                          from their mother for a decade.

                          With their father, the two boys headed
                          to Muncie, where they discovered that
                          life for "black" boys was very
                          different than for white boys.

                          "I was the same person, but because
                          my heritage, I was treated very
                          differently, " Williams says.

                          Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                          and Williams was denied an academic award
                          in the sixth grade because of his "race".

                          Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                          at first with their paternal grandmother,
                          who had worked at the tavern back
                          in Virginia, where the boys knew
                          her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.

                          No one had mentioned she
                          was their father's mother.

                          "She was very angry about that."

                          Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                          of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                          counseled many minority students and they told
                          him how inspiring and affirming his story was.

                          A top student and high school athlete,
                          Williams put himself through Ball
                          State University while working
                          full time as a sheriff.

                          He also attended law school and
                          has published legal textbooks.

                          When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
                          where the KKK had been active for many
                          years, there was strict racial segregation

                          With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                          has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.

                          But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                          `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                          "racial" heritage,"
                          colorWilliams says.

                          His white grandmother lived less
                          than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
                          yet brutally rejected the two boys.

                          After they begged for their mother's
                          address so they could write her, she
                          ordered them out of her car, saying,
                          "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"

                          Only his mother's youngest sister
                          kept in touch with Williams.

                          By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                          their community accepted the two boys
                          after some playground scuffles and taunts.

                          "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                          Those were the people who were supporting us.
                          I became proud of my heritage.
                          I realized who I was.

                          Moreover Williams had seen his father
                          "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                          `White' and the pain he suffered
                          emotionally at this self-denial.

                          Economically, however, "passing"
                          generated much more money.

                          Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
                          grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.

                          After the family moved to Muncie, the
                          best job his 41-year-old father, who
                          had attended Howard University, could
                          get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.

                          What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                          named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                          providing them with a stable home.

                          At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                          domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.

                          "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                          who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                          and his now-deceased father who, despite
                          his drinking and difficulties, always
                          encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.

                          His mother, however, remains a wound.

                          Williams understands why she left her husband,
                          but she has never apologized or even admitted
                          that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.

                          (She periodically returned to Muncie
                          yet never contacted her sons. )
                          When he saw her at age 20,
                          "She didn't want to talk to us about
                          how we had survived, what we had
                          gone through," Williams says.
                          "She was in denial. "
                          When Williams told her recently
                          that the book was to be published,
                          "she was not happy about it."

                          Williams traveled back to Muncie
                          recently and ... visited his
                          elementary school and [discovered]
                          "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                          in terms of what "black" children
                          can expect from this world.

                          While he believes there have been
                          "some advances in race relations,there
                          continues to be a lot of divisions. "

                          Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                          for whites to understand how "overpowering
                          and overshadowing the perceptions about
                          "blacks" in this society can be.
                          "It's very difficult"

                          <<<<<

                          BOOK EXCERPT:

                          `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                          to work for us in the tavern?'
                          Dad's lower lip quivered.
                          He look ill.
                          Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                          I wondered, or was it something
                          that had happened on the trip?
                          `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                          He paused, then slowly added,
                          `But she's really my momma.
                          That means she's your grandmother. '
                          `But that can't be, Dad!
                          She's Colored!'
                          I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                          the other white passengers on the bus.
                          `That's right, Billy,'
                          he continued.
                          `She's Colored.
                          That makes you
                          Part-Colored, too.'...
                          I didn't understand Day.
                          I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                          My skin was white.
                          All of us are white, I said to myself.
                          But for the first time, I had to admit
                          Dad didn't exactly look white.
                          His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                          as I sat there trying to
                          classify my own father...
                          `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                          `I don't wanta be Colored.
                          We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                          I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                          grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                          I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                          The veil dropped from his face and features.
                          Before my eyes he was transformed
                          from a swarthy Italian to his true
                          self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                          My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                          We were Colored!
                          After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                          of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.

                          From `Life on the Color Line'

                          Dawn D.
                          Bennett-Alexander

                          ]]]]]


                        • Rodney Sam
                          Wow, thats an interesting story and a stop so rare one given the state of Intermixture between Europeons, Native Americans, and Africans over the last 400
                          Message 12 of 14 , Nov 7, 2006
                          • 0 Attachment
                            Wow, thats an interesting story and a stop so rare one given
                            the state of Intermixture between Europeons, Native Americans,
                            and Africans over the last 400 years of history here
                            that a lot of people deny(particulary 'White' people).
                            There is a book by Shirly Haislip that explains her
                            search for her relatives who "passed" as 'White'.
                            Also remember this funny anedote how she was researching
                            in the archives somewhere in DC and there was the old
                            white couple who was having somewhat of a dilemma.
                            The husband was confused because he believed he found
                            his gg grandfather in the records, the place, the
                            name, the location, and the age were all correct.
                            His wife asked him why. He said it could be
                            right because the man they found was black!






                             

                          • Tyrone Anderson
                            Message 13 of 14 , Nov 7, 2006
                            • 0 Attachment

                              I can relate to ALOT of what you wrote. I think, during
                              my "awakening", for lack of a better word, I probably had
                              a few moments that, in retrospect, I'm not so proud of;
                              moments where I consciously behaved "black" in an effort
                              for those around me to see it so I wouldn't have to explain
                              it. But it was just as much a lie and not really me,
                              almost my stereotype of what I thought I should be like.
                               
                              I think you speak for a lot of people on this.
                              And not just Mixed and Biracial people,
                              but Non-Mixed Blacks as well.
                              I think it hits even more on a cultural expression.
                              Class and upbringing have a lot to do with it.
                              The 'Black Intelligentsia is probably behave
                              97% differently from impoverished blacks.
                              Communities of blacks who are upscale middle -
                              upper class (There are a lot of ‘em out there ya'll)
                              will be seen as having more 'white' mannerisms at times.
                              I have a cousin who is for all intents and purposes wouldn't
                              be seen as Mixed, she grew up in the late 70's early 80's
                              in a 99% White suburb and she is the blackest Valley
                              Girl I know, culturally she is 'white' and even though
                              I understand all of this she still confuses me lol.


                              Now I look back at that time with some embarrassment
                              and see myself as a bit of a buffoon. I needed to
                              realize that acceptance of what was inside of me
                              didn't automatically negate who I had been all my
                              life and there was nothing inherently wrong with my
                              likes, dislikes and preferences. There was no need
                              to carry myself a different way nor speak ebonics or
                              any other stuff I did in my attempt to find my way.
                              Having black in you is almost a political or
                              philosophical situation because it forces one
                              to re-examine their worldview, the society
                              around them and their place in it.



                              I like that thought.

                              Many blacks I met were quite quick to accept me but I also
                              discovered a silent pressure to apply the One-Drop rule
                              and for me to not express White cultural expressions
                              which made them uncomfortable. Things I liked were seen
                              as silly or nerdy, and I found myself "dumbing down" my
                              vocabulary and subject matter. Again realizing, after
                              really looking in the mirror, that I didn't fit in
                              there either, and that I was not being myself. I simply
                              didn't have 'the commonality of experience' and many
                              cultural attitudes or behaviors felt really alien
                              to me. I still needed to be true to myself but
                              didn't want to accept the true implications - that
                              it meant I was even more alone or cut-off than
                              before. But it was something I had to do for me.

                              I remember a book entitled "Crisis for the black intellectual"
                              and that sort of summed/continues to sum it up for me and
                              has been why I have been able to accept the DNA and the
                              implications without needing to fit in or be accepted as
                              black. I can appreciate the impact it has had on my
                              life without the need to fit into a specific lifestyle.
                              I draw my inspiration and strength from the vibrancy
                              and achievement of the early "black" intellectuals
                              (who were basically all Mulattoes, if even that much)
                              The Harlem Renaissance and The Civil Rights Movement.

                              Great point there. I use that a lot, when dealing with
                              people who think they know what it means to be 'black'
                              The 'culture' was created by a bunch of
                              Mixed folk, many who could pass for White.
                              The Harlem Renaissance culturally to me
                              was not One-Droppist because there was a
                              lot of celebration of diversity and Mixture.
                              A lot of thought revolved around Mixture and 'pure'.
                              Poems by Langston Hughes-Mulatto, W.E.B. Dubois,
                              Adam Clayton Powell Jr and his father Rev. Powell Sr.
                              (who was Quadroon) Zora Neal Hurston Walter White
                              Paintings celebrating the octoroon beauty,
                              plays and books that dealt with passing as
                              well as just being Mixed and the list goes on.
                               

                              I also can appreciate African culture and our history
                              in this country for what it is. But I also don't have
                              a need to get dreads, start wearing kente cloth nor
                              changing my name to something "African" to express it.
                              Those would be as silly to me as running around in a
                              kilt because I'm also Scottish. Besides that behavior
                              is usually for the benefit of others, to affect
                              their perceptions of us and I simply am no longer
                              motivated by external approval or validations.

                              I also no longer made blanket apologies for short-comings in
                              ”the black community” and see the White man as inherently evil.

                              It's all, like myself, a shade of gray ;)

                              I'm sure you have or will experience a lot of this
                              but I'm sure you will find your way since you had
                              the strength to confront it all in the first place.
                              Feel free to write me directly.

                              Regards,
                              Jeff

                              j s <creolescience@...> wrote:
                              Ironically, were that blood to be Native American
                              it would have been an ENTIRELY different result.
                              Which really shows how people and this society is.

                              I can relate to ALOT of what you wrote. I think, during
                              my "awakening", for lack of a better word, I probably had
                              a few moments that, in retrospect, I'm not so proud of;
                              moments where I consciously behaved "black" in an effort
                              for those around me to see it so I wouldn't have to explain
                              it. But it was just as much a lie and not really me,
                              almost my stereotype of what I thought I should be like.

                              Now I look back at that time with some embarrassment
                              and see myself as a bit of a buffoon. I needed to
                              realize that acceptance of what was inside of me
                              didn't automatically negate who I had been all my
                              life and there was nothing inherently wrong with my
                              likes, dislikes and preferences. There was no need
                              to carry myself a different way nor speak ebonics or
                              any other stuff I did in my attempt to find my way.
                              Having black in you is almost a political or
                              philosophical situation because it forces one
                              to re-examine their worldview, the society
                              around them and their place in it.

                              Many blacks I met were quite quick to accept me but I also
                              discovered a silent pressure to apply the One-Drop rule
                              and for me to not express White cultural expressions
                              which made them uncomfortable. Things I liked were seen
                              as silly or nerdy, and I found myself "dumbing down" my
                              vocabulary and subject matter. Again realizing, after
                              really looking in the mirror, that I didn't fit in
                              there either, and that I was not being myself. I simply
                              didn't have 'the commonality of experience' and many
                              cultural attitudes or behaviors felt really alien
                              to me. I still needed to be true to myself but
                              didn't want to accept the true implications - that
                              it meant I was even more alone or cut-off than
                              before. But it was something I had to do for me.

                              I remember a book entitled "Crisis for the black intellectual"
                              and that sort of summed/continues to sum it up for me and
                              has been why I have been able to accept the DNA and the
                              implications without needing to fit in or be accepted as
                              black. I can appreciate the impact it has had on my
                              life without the need to fit into a specific lifestyle.
                              I draw my inspiration and strength from the vibrancy
                              and achievement of the early "black" intellectuals
                              (who were basically all Mulattoes, if even that much)
                              The Harlem Renaissance and The Civil Rights Movement.

                              I also can appreciate African culture and our history
                              in this country for what it is. But I also don't have
                              a need to get dreads, start wearing kente cloth nor
                              changing my name to something "African" to express it.
                              Those would be as silly to me as running around in a
                              kilt because I'm also Scottish. Besides that behavior
                              is usually for the benefit of others, to affect
                              their perceptions of us and I simply am no longer
                              motivated by external approval or validations.

                              I also no longer made blanket apologies for short-comings in
                              ”the black community” and see the White man as inherently evil.

                              It's all, like myself, a shade of gray ;)

                              I'm sure you have or will experience a lot of this
                              but I'm sure you will find your way since you had
                              the strength to confront it all in the first place.
                              Feel free to write me directly.

                              Regards,
                              Jeff

                               

                              docilechicken24 <kjoule70@hotmail. com> wrote:


                              The search for my background has been a headache,
                              but at the same time, it has defined my adult life.

                              I am a masters student in Afro-Am Studies right now.
                              I was a Physics undergrad.
                              This mess has completely switched the direction of my life.

                              For one thing, my color, race was brought up in
                              high school but I trusted my family's explanations.
                              Why would they lie to me, were my feelings.
                              I couldn't imagine that.
                              I wouldn't say my family flat out lied, but there
                              was and continues to be a bunch of covering up.

                              Anyway.

                              Basically, when I went to my undergraduate
                              college, away from my parental security blanket,
                              I started noticing, basically that I was the only person
                              who recognized me as White or as I called it, European.

                              This got me thinking, what if I'm not White?

                              In high school I prided myself on being a dark skinned
                              White man and enjoyed the obvious contradiction.

                              I was steeped in what I call the "White" frame of mind.
                              Obviously not all White people will conceive
                              of things in the way I describe, but everything
                              I describe were prevalent attitudes among
                              me and my White peers and my family, the
                              White side and “black” side (all of whom
                              still to this day identifies as White).

                              My White frame of mind made it easy to feel contempt to
                              Hispanics because they didn't speak English, it made it easy to
                              resent women and minority groups that got access to scholarships
                              that I thought I deserved, and I had no conception of race,
                              I figured it was a thing of the past and I didn't know
                              and didn't care what they were making a fuss about.

                              This is part of the reason why finding I had
                              ‘color’ in me was so difficult to deal with.

                              My shortsighted world view where everything White
                              is right had to go in order for me to accept myself.

                              It took me about 3-6 months to become okay with
                              the possibility that I may have some black in me.

                              I always tried to be honest to myself so I accepted the
                              possibility and started researching my past and my culture.

                              Until high school or maybe college, I believed that most
                              French people were darker than the other Europeans because my
                              dad's family said they were French and they had some ’color’
                              to them, we were darker than all the other White people.

                              (Funny story, in high school when I went to the house
                              of a friend of mine that was in a poorer area, I got
                              so scared of the black people that were around.
                              I routinely forgot I had brown skin and acted scared and
                              nervous like I actually had White skin, not that having
                              White skin would have put me in any particular danger,
                              but I learned somewhere along the line that black people
                              will hurt White people so I became very afraid of black people.)

                              Anyway, I started looking into my culture, and also
                              asking my mother about me and I started compiling
                              in my mind physical traits that I and family members
                              had that were in common with "black" people.
                              I started researching Creole's and I
                              starting looking for genealogy research.

                              I also started talking to a lot of people about my suspicions.
                              There was the general reaction as I was talking about my
                              suspicions to others I knew, family, random White people
                              I knew, whoever, I didn't see anything wrong with it.

                              As I started mentioning my suspicions, I started
                              hearing a lot of, ‘no you're not “black”’,
                              ‘no I don't believe you’, or family members started
                              jokingly using racial slurs to express my color.

                              I heard the n***** word more after that
                              than I did my entire life previously.
                              Only once in my childhood I was called it.

                              This reaction, although subtle, got me thinking that people
                              believed that something was wrong with being “black”.
                              I had a cousin say, it all makes sense, but I can't believe
                              it, I can't believe my grandma is a “black” woman.

                              These people had a vision of “black” people that was quite
                              negative, so I figured that they liked me, and I didn't fit
                              into their negative stereotype, so I must not have been “black”.

                              My close friends supported me, but when it came to my family,
                              nobody understood where I was coming from, why I was doing this.
                              I wouldn't even mention this to my grandparents directly.
                              There was a battle going on under the surface of my conversations,
                              me trying to find out more about who they were and clues to their
                              racial identity, and them trying to lead me in a different direction.

                              It took about 3 years for me to get my hands on Census
                              information that proved to me that I had some African Roots.

                              To my surprise I found out it wasn't
                              one ancestor, it was all of them.
                              All of my ancestors as far as I have gone
                              back so far have been Mulattoes.
                              My grandparents were passing.

                              The summer after I found out I took a science internship in
                              New Orleans not because I liked the topic, but because I
                              wanted to find a way to go to Louisiana so I could learn more.
                              I met some of my grandma's relatives for the first time.
                              My grandparents took pains throughout their
                              pasts to keep these relatives away from us.
                              They were darker too.
                              They didn't even consider themselves
                              "black” though, or even ‘Colored’.

                              Why this is happening confounded me and made me angry.
                              I didn't like the implications that something
                              was wrong with having black in me.
                              It meant that since I do, something was wrong with me,
                              and I had too much pride in who I was to accept that bs.

                              Since then, I've been trying to learn and
                              get comfortable with my new identity.

                              It took me quite a while to shed my White self image
                              and actually believe that people saw a ‘Colored’ person
                              when they looked at me, cause even after I knew I
                              was “black”, I still felt like I was a White guy.

                              Just since being here I found out that like 3 years ago
                              a cousin of mine had a genetic test done and not only was there
                              black and native american as I suspected but also east asian.

                              This meant that my grandparents knew longer than I did
                              their ancestry, and it has been a bit unnerving knowing
                              that I have been tiptoeing around and they have been
                              playing along, with something that they already knew.

                              This identity redefinition and transformation has also
                              caused problems with my White family, including my mother.

                              My mother and sisters wanted me to continue identifying
                              as White and felt offended that I would do otherwise.

                              The excuse was, I only had a tinsy winsy bit, almost nothing,
                              not significant, you're blowing it out of proportion.

                              You can imagine how infuriating that was,
                              cause that statement inferred that I was
                              just making up the last 3 or 4 years of
                              my life and I was the cause of my growing
                              feelings of alienation and isolation.

                              Because I had the audacity to express preference in
                              females with darker skin, my mother also decided
                              to get offended over that and start feeling insecure.

                              So all this time when I am quite confused,
                              very hurt, a bit angry, and feeling very
                              alone, I also had to take extra care to
                              make sure she knew that I loved her,
                              thought she was beautiful, etc.

                              Obviously, I haven't healed all the way from this experience,
                              I have felt betrayed by virtually all of my family members.

                              I believe I will eventually foster in, especially my dad's
                              family a sense of pride for all that they are and my
                              mom and my sisters will eventually understand me.

                              Until them, I am the only ‘person-of-color’
                              in my family, and because my identity has not
                              been validated by them, I feel illegitimate
                              and quite insecure about the decisions I have
                              made because I don't really look black
                              (although I don't look White either)
                              so basically the only people who see me
                              as a “black” man are those that I tell
                              I am “black”, and since my family doesn't
                              reinforce my identity, I am in this
                              strange state of isolation or limbo
                              or something that I dislike greatly.

                              I don't regret my decisions one bit though.

                              This is my story.

                              Finding this out has literally flipped my life 180
                              degrees and I am a very different person now
                              than I was before because of these experiences.

                              What counts though is that I am happier
                              with myself now than I ever have been
                              and these experiences have made me
                              a better more understanding person.

                              I have learned patience also.

                              Thanks for letting me share.
                              Getting my story out to anyone
                              that will listen means a lot to me.
                              It gives me a sense that
                              my experiences are not in vain.

                              (Not to paint my family as villains,
                              cause they are not, I love them to death.
                              If you were ever around me much, you'd see very
                              quickly that my family is the center of my life.
                              I'm always talking about them, if
                              you know me, you know my family.
                              But this is precisely what made this
                              issue so difficult for me to deal with.)

                              Dustin

                              In Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com,
                              "multiracialbookclu b" <soaptalk@.. .> wrote:

                              Jeff,

                              Are you comfortable sharing more with us?

                              If instance ....

                              How did you respond to having your suspicions
                              or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?

                              What made you decide to go ahead and take the
                              DNA test that backed up what you had learned?

                              Was it difficult find a valid DNA testing company?

                              How does your immediate family react to your
                              openness about your Multi-Racial lineage? [:-$]

                              How have your friends reacted? [:-/]

                              How did you react (both then and now)? [:O]

                              Thanks and have a great day. [:)]

                              --M

                              P.S.

                              Dustin -- can you also share a bit more about how you
                              discovered your full-lineage and your reaction (as well
                              as that of your family and friends), to learning of it?

                              Thanks.

                              In Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups
                              "tlbaker1" <tlbaker1@... > wrote:

                              Interesting, you need to write a book.

                              In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                              back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                              I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                              But was this news tramatic for you somehow?

                              From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                              [mailto:Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com]
                              On Behalf Of j s
                              Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                              To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                              Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                              [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]

                              Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                              was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                              asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                              mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                              Of course she didn't know anything about it
                              and I started to think my father, who was
                              no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                              Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                              maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                              look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                              my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                              (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                              the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                              silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                              robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                              the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                              types of stories were frequently created to
                              explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                              had arrived in new places with no possessions
                              or real history) and it all made sense.

                              Up until then the family had said how there was
                              Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                              but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                              In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                              history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                              research she said "don't go back too far,
                              you're liable to find the tar brush!"

                              tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@.. .wrote:

                              How did the conversation come
                              up, if you don't mind me asking?

                              Lynne

                              From: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                              [mailto:Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com]
                              On Behalf Of j s
                              Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                              To: Generation-Mixed@ yahoogroups. com
                              Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                              [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]

                              I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                              BTW this book looks interesting

                              docilechicken24 <kjoule70@.. .wrote:

                              Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                              It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                              was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                              To this day I have family members
                              that describe themselves as Italian.

                              Dustin

                              When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                              his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                              Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
                              going to be different from now on.
                              In Virginia you were white boys.
                              In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                              I want you to remember that you're the
                              same today that you were yesterday.

                              But people in Indiana will
                              treat you differently.
                              The compelling story of just how different
                              that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                              much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                              Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                              Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).

                              Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                              swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.

                              Overnight, his racial identity changed.

                              The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                              TODAY Best-Selling Books list.

                              Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                              `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                              [categorized / identified] father when
                              interracial relationships were still
                              against the law in Virginia.

                              His light-skinned father told people
                              he was Italian, and his mother was
                              disowned by her family in Muncie.

                              The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                              that failed partly because the Korean
                              War ended and partly because Williams'
                              charismatic father drank heavily.

                              Eventually, Williams' mother left
                              the family [due to domestic violence].
                              She took her two youngest children
                              but left Williams and his brother
                              Mike with their father.

                              The two sons would not se or hear
                              from their mother for a decade.

                              With their father, the two boys headed
                              to Muncie, where they discovered that
                              life for "black" boys was very
                              different than for white boys.

                              "I was the same person, but because
                              my heritage, I was treated very
                              differently, " Williams says.

                              Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                              and Williams was denied an academic award
                              in the sixth grade because of his "race".

                              Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                              at first with their paternal grandmother,
                              who had worked at the tavern back
                              in Virginia, where the boys knew
                              her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.

                              No one had mentioned she
                              was their father's mother.

                              "She was very angry about that."

                              Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                              of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                              counseled many minority students and they told
                              him how inspiring and affirming his story was.

                              A top student and high school athlete,
                              Williams put himself through Ball
                              State University while working
                              full time as a sheriff.

                              He also attended law school and
                              has published legal textbooks.

                              When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
                              where the KKK had been active for many
                              years, there was strict racial segregation

                              With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                              has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.

                              But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                              `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                              "racial" heritage,"
                              Williams says.

                              His white grandmother lived less
                              than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
                              yet brutally rejected the two boys.

                              After they begged for their mother's
                              address so they could write her, she
                              ordered them out of her car, saying,
                              "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"

                              Only his mother's youngest sister
                              kept in touch with Williams.

                              By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                              their community accepted the two boys
                              after some playground scuffles and taunts.

                              "We became "black" ["identified" ].
                              Those were the people who were supporting us.
                              I became proud of my heritage.
                              I realized who I was.

                              Moreover Williams had seen his father
                              "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                              `White' and the pain he suffered
                              emotionally at this self-denial.

                              Economically, however, "passing"
                              generated much more money.

                              Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
                              grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.

                              After the family moved to Muncie, the
                              best job his 41-year-old father, who
                              had attended Howard University, could
                              get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.

                              What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                              named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                              providing them with a stable home.

                              At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                              domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.

                              "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                              who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                              and his now-deceased father who, despite
                              his drinking and difficulties, always
                              encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.

                              His mother, however, remains a wound.

                              Williams understands why she left her husband,
                              but she has never apologized or even admitted
                              that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.

                              (She periodically returned to Muncie
                              yet never contacted her sons. )
                              When he saw her at age 20,
                              "She didn't want to talk to us about
                              how we had survived, what we had
                              gone through," Williams says.
                              "She was in denial. "
                              When Williams told her recently
                              that the book was to be published,
                              "she was not happy about it."

                              Williams traveled back to Muncie
                              recently and ... visited his
                              elementary school and [discovered]
                              "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                              in terms of what "black" children
                              can expect from this world.

                              While he believes there have been
                              "some advances in race relations,there
                              continues to be a lot of divisions. "

                              Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                              for whites to understand how "overpowering
                              and overshadowing the perceptions about
                              "blacks" in this society can be.
                              "It's very difficult"

                              <<<<<

                              BOOK EXCERPT:

                              `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                              to work for us in the tavern?'
                              Dad's lower lip quivered.
                              He look ill.
                              Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                              I wondered, or was it something
                              that had happened on the trip?
                              `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                              He paused, then slowly added,
                              `But she's really my momma.
                              That means she's your grandmother. '
                              `But that can't be, Dad!
                              She's Colored!'
                              I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                              the other white passengers on the bus.
                              `That's right, Billy,'
                              he continued.
                              `She's Colored.
                              That makes you
                              Part-Colored, too.'...
                              I didn't understand Day.
                              I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                              My skin was white.
                              All of us are white, I said to myself.
                              But for the first time, I had to admit
                              Dad didn't exactly look white.
                              His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                              as I sat there trying to
                              classify my own father...
                              `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                              `I don't wanta be Colored.
                              We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                              I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                              grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                              I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                              The veil dropped from his face and features.
                              Before my eyes he was transformed
                              from a swarthy Italian to his true
                              self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                              My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                              We were Colored!
                              After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                              of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.

                              From `Life on the Color Line'

                              Dawn D.
                              Bennett-Alexander

                              ]]]]]





                              "Man would rather be a little higher than the apes, than a little lower than the angels." -"I am Black & I am White, and know there is no difference. Each one casts a shadow, and all shadows are dark." -Walter White:
                               
                            • tlbaker1
                              Excellent little bio of yourself, Dustin, reads like book! Thanks for sharing it w/us, takes a lot of courage to explore who we really are and present this new
                              Message 14 of 14 , Nov 7, 2006
                              • 0 Attachment
                                Excellent little bio of yourself, Dustin, reads like book!
                                Thanks for sharing it w/us, takes a lot of courage to explore who
                                we really are and present this new self to our family and friends.
                                I love your honesty, keep sharing w/us (and supportive
                                friends and family), especially when you are feeling
                                insecure or down, etc., it will help you heal faster.

                                Lynne

                                -----Original Message-----

                                From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                On Behalf Of docilechicken24
                                Sent: Tuesday, November 07, 2006 12:00 AM
                                To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                Subject: Re: Jeff's discovery of his full
                                ancestral lineage (Dustin's background))

                                The search for my background has been a headache,
                                but at the same time, it has defined my adult life.

                                I am a masters student in Afro-Am Studies right now.
                                I was a Physics undergrad.
                                This mess has completely switched the direction of my life.

                                For one thing, my color, race was brought up in
                                high school but I trusted my family's explanations.
                                Why would they lie to me, were my feelings.
                                I couldn't imagine that.
                                I wouldn't say my family flat out lied, but there
                                was and continues to be a bunch of covering up.

                                Anyway.

                                Basically, when I went to my undergraduate
                                college, away from my parental security blanket,
                                I started noticing, basically that I was the only person
                                who recognized me as White or as I called it, European.

                                This got me thinking, what if I'm not White?

                                In high school I prided myself on being a dark skinned
                                White man and enjoyed the obvious contradiction.

                                I was steeped in what I call the "White" frame of mind.
                                Obviously not all White people will conceive
                                of things in the way I describe, but everything
                                I describe were prevalent attitudes among
                                me and my White peers and my family, the
                                White side and "black" side (all of whom
                                still to this day identifies as White).

                                My White frame of mind made it easy to feel contempt to
                                Hispanics because they didn't speak English, it made it easy to
                                resent women and minority groups that got access to scholarships
                                that I thought I deserved, and I had no conception of race,
                                I figured it was a thing of the past and I didn't know
                                and didn't care what they were making a fuss about.

                                This is part of the reason why finding I had
                                'color' in me was so difficult to deal with.

                                My shortsighted world view where everything White
                                is right had to go in order for me to accept myself.

                                It took me about 3-6 months to become okay with
                                the possibility that I may have some black in me.

                                I always tried to be honest to myself so I accepted the
                                possibility and started researching my past and my culture.

                                Until high school or maybe college, I believed that most
                                French people were darker than the other Europeans because my
                                dad's family said they were French and they had some 'color'
                                to them, we were darker than all the other White people.

                                (Funny story, in high school when I went to the house
                                of a friend of mine that was in a poorer area, I got
                                so scared of the black people that were around.
                                I routinely forgot I had brown skin and acted scared and
                                nervous like I actually had White skin, not that having
                                White skin would have put me in any particular danger,
                                but I learned somewhere along the line that black people
                                will hurt White people so I became very afraid of black people.)

                                Anyway, I started looking into my culture, and also
                                asking my mother about me and I started compiling
                                in my mind physical traits that I and family members
                                had that were in common with "black" people.
                                I started researching Creole's and I
                                starting looking for genealogy research.

                                I also started talking to a lot of people about my suspicions.
                                There was the general reaction as I was talking about my
                                suspicions to others I knew, family, random White people
                                I knew, whoever, I didn't see anything wrong with it.

                                As I started mentioning my suspicions, I started
                                hearing a lot of, 'no you're not "black"',
                                'no I don't believe you', or family members started
                                jokingly using racial slurs to express my color.

                                I heard the n***** word more after that
                                than I did my entire life previously.
                                Only once in my childhood I was called it.

                                This reaction, although subtle, got me thinking that people
                                believed that something was wrong with being "black".
                                I had a cousin say, it all makes sense, but I can't believe
                                it, I can't believe my grandma is a "black" woman.

                                These people had a vision of "black" people that was quite
                                negative, so I figured that they liked me, and I didn't fit
                                into their negative stereotype, so I must not have been "black".

                                My close friends supported me, but when it came to my family,
                                nobody understood where I was coming from, why I was doing this.
                                I wouldn't even mention this to my grandparents directly.
                                There was a battle going on under the surface of my conversations,
                                me trying to find out more about who they were and clues to their
                                racial identity, and them trying to lead me in a different direction.

                                It took about 3 years for me to get my hands on Census
                                information that proved to me that I had some African Roots.

                                To my surprise I found out it wasn't
                                one ancestor, it was all of them.
                                All of my ancestors as far as I have gone
                                back so far have been Mulattoes.
                                My grandparents were passing.

                                The summer after I found out I took a science internship in
                                New Orleans not because I liked the topic, but because I
                                wanted to find a way to go to Louisiana so I could learn more.
                                I met some of my grandma's relatives for the first time.
                                My grandparents took pains throughout their
                                pasts to keep these relatives away from us.
                                They were darker too.
                                They didn't even consider themselves
                                "black" though, or even 'Colored'.

                                Why this is happening confounded me and made me angry.
                                I didn't like the implications that something
                                was wrong with having black in me.
                                It meant that since I do, something was wrong with me,
                                and I had too much pride in who I was to accept that bs.

                                Since then, I've been trying to learn and
                                get comfortable with my new identity.

                                It took me quite a while to shed my White self image
                                and actually believe that people saw a 'Colored' person
                                when they looked at me, cause even after I knew I
                                was "black", I still felt like I was a White guy.

                                Just since being here I found out that like 3 years ago
                                a cousin of mine had a genetic test done and not only was there
                                black and native american as I suspected but also east asian.

                                This meant that my grandparents knew longer than I did
                                their ancestry, and it has been a bit unnerving knowing
                                that I have been tiptoeing around and they have been
                                playing along, with something that they already knew.

                                This identity redefinition and transformation has also
                                caused problems with my White family, including my mother.

                                My mother and sisters wanted me to continue identifying
                                as White and felt offended that I would do otherwise.

                                The excuse was, I only had a tinsy winsy bit, almost nothing,
                                not significant, you're blowing it out of proportion.

                                You can imagine how infuriating that was,
                                cause that statement inferred that I was
                                just making up the last 3 or 4 years of
                                my life and I was the cause of my growing
                                feelings of alienation and isolation.

                                Because I had the audacity to express preference in
                                females with darker skin, my mother also decided
                                to get offended over that and start feeling insecure.

                                So all this time when I am quite confused,
                                very hurt, a bit angry, and feeling very
                                alone, I also had to take extra care to
                                make sure she knew that I loved her,
                                thought she was beautiful, etc.

                                Obviously, I haven't healed all the way from this experience,
                                I have felt betrayed by virtually all of my family members.

                                I believe I will eventually foster in, especially my dad's
                                family a sense of pride for all that they are and my
                                mom and my sisters will eventually understand me.

                                Until them, I am the only 'person-of-color'
                                in my family, and because my identity has not
                                been validated by them, I feel illegitimate
                                and quite insecure about the decisions I have
                                made because I don't really look black
                                (although I don't look White either)
                                so basically the only people who see me
                                as a "black" man are those that I tell
                                I am "black", and since my family doesn't
                                reinforce my identity, I am in this
                                strange state of isolation or limbo
                                or something that I dislike greatly.

                                I don't regret my decisions one bit though.

                                This is my story.

                                Finding this out has literally flipped my life 180
                                degrees and I am a very different person now
                                than I was before because of these experiences.

                                What counts though is that I am happier
                                with myself now than I ever have been
                                and these experiences have made me
                                a better more understanding person.

                                I have learned patience also.

                                Thanks for letting me share.
                                Getting my story out to anyone
                                that will listen means a lot to me.
                                It gives me a sense that
                                my experiences are not in vain.

                                (Not to paint my family as villains,
                                cause they are not, I love them to death.
                                If you were ever around me much, you'd see very
                                quickly that my family is the center of my life.
                                I'm always talking about them, if
                                you know me, you know my family.
                                But this is precisely what made this
                                issue so difficult for me to deal with.)

                                Dustin





                                In Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com,
                                "multiracialbookclub" <soaptalk@...> wrote:





                                Jeff,

                                Are you comfortable sharing more with us?

                                If instance ....

                                How did you respond to having your suspicions
                                or curiousity --about your lineage-- confirmed?

                                What made you decide to go ahead and take the
                                DNA test that backed up what you had learned?

                                Was it difficult find a valid DNA testing company?

                                How does your immediate family react to your
                                openness about your Multi-Racial lineage? [:-$]

                                How have your friends reacted? [:-/]

                                How did you react (both then and now)? [:O]

                                Thanks and have a great day. [:)]


                                --M



                                P.S.

                                Dustin -- can you also share a bit more about how you
                                discovered your full-lineage and your reaction (as well
                                as that of your family and friends), to learning of it?



                                Thanks.




                                In Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups
                                <mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.
                                com, "tlbaker1" <tlbaker1@wrote:



                                Interesting, you need to write a book.

                                In my family on my mother's side, the further you go
                                back the whiter it gets, moreso than the native and black.

                                I love the pirate story, LOLOL, literally at my keyboard.

                                But was this news tramatic for you somehow?



                                From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                [mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com]
                                On Behalf Of j s
                                Sent: Friday, November 03, 2006 4:38 PM
                                To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                                [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]


                                Basically I was asked by an older black male when I
                                was about 14 if I was mixed, which I had never been
                                asked before, and he said I needed to talk to my
                                mother because she wasn't telling me anything.
                                Of course she didn't know anything about it
                                and I started to think my father, who was
                                no longer in the picture, was the "culprit".

                                Well as time passed and I started to look at my
                                maternal grandmother, I noticed a Lena Horne
                                look that she had, as well as the fullness of
                                my aunt and uncles lips, curliness of his hair
                                (which he brushed strongly down and parted to
                                the side - no afros there!) and then heard this
                                silliness about how a great grandfather had been
                                robbed by pirates on the Mississippi and lost
                                the family fortune after the Civil War (those
                                types of stories were frequently created to
                                explain how Passe-Blanc freedmen and ex-slaves
                                had arrived in new places with no possessions
                                or real history) and it all made sense.

                                Up until then the family had said how there was
                                Indian blood in there (and perhaps there was)
                                but it seemed that I had found my culprit.
                                In fact when I asked my grandmother about our
                                history and said I'd like to do some genealogical
                                research she said "don't go back too far,
                                you're liable to find the tar brush!"



                                tlbaker1 <tlbaker1@...wrote:



                                How did the conversation come
                                up, if you don't mind me asking?

                                Lynne




                                From: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                [mailto:Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com]
                                On Behalf Of j s
                                Sent: Thursday, November 02, 2006 3:26 PM
                                To: Generation-Mixed@yahoogroups.com
                                Subject: Re: Gregory Howard Williams
                                [Racial Identity on The ''Color''Line]



                                I started finding out at 14 so I understand.
                                BTW this book looks interesting




                                docilechicken24 <kjoule70@...wrote:



                                Thanks for sharing this person, I can relate to that.
                                It wasn't til about 19 maybe til I found out I
                                was "black" [categorized] or "a person of color".
                                To this day I have family members
                                that describe themselves as Italian.

                                Dustin












                                When Gregory Howard Williams was 10 years old,
                                his father turned to him on a bus ride to
                                Muncie, Ind., and told him, "Life is
                                going to be different from now on.
                                In Virginia you were white boys.
                                In Indiana, you're going to be "Colored" boys.
                                I want you to remember that you're the
                                same today that you were yesterday.

                                But people in Indiana will
                                treat you differently.
                                The compelling story of just how different
                                that life would be forms the core of Williams'
                                much-discussed new book, `Life on the Color
                                Line: The True Story of a White Boy Who
                                Discovered He was Black' (Dutton, $22.95).

                                Williams left behind the "whites only" schools,
                                swimming pools and move theaters of 1953.

                                Overnight, his racial identity changed.

                                The memoir is No. 232 on the USA
                                TODAY Best-Selling Books list.

                                Williams was born to a [mono-racially]
                                `White' mother and a [mixed-race] "black"
                                [categorized / identified] father when
                                interracial relationships were still
                                against the law in Virginia.

                                His light-skinned father told people
                                he was Italian, and his mother was
                                disowned by her family in Muncie.

                                The couple ran a tavern for servicemen
                                that failed partly because the Korean
                                War ended and partly because Williams'
                                charismatic father drank heavily.

                                Eventually, Williams' mother left
                                the family [due to domestic violence].
                                She took her two youngest children
                                but left Williams and his brother
                                Mike with their father.

                                The two sons would not se or hear
                                from their mother for a decade.

                                With their father, the two boys headed
                                to Muncie, where they discovered that
                                life for "black" boys was very
                                different than for white boys.

                                "I was the same person, but because
                                my heritage, I was treated very
                                differently," Williams says.

                                Teachers had severely lowered expectations,
                                and Williams was denied an academic award
                                in the sixth grade because of his "race".

                                Often going hungry, the two boys lived
                                at first with their paternal grandmother,
                                who had worked at the tavern back
                                in Virginia, where the boys knew
                                her simply as the cook, Miss Sallie.

                                No one had mentioned she
                                was their father's mother.

                                "She was very angry about that."

                                Now the dean of Ohio State University College
                                of Law, Williams wrote the book because he had
                                counseled many minority students and they told
                                him how inspiring and affirming his story was.

                                A top student and high school athlete,
                                Williams put himself through Ball
                                State University while working
                                full time as a sheriff.

                                He also attended law school and
                                has published legal textbooks.

                                When Williams was growing up in Muncie,
                                where the KKK had been active for many
                                years, there was strict racial segregation

                                With fair skin and straight hair, Williams
                                has always looked [`mono'-racially] `White'.

                                But THE ISSUE has "NEVER BEEN
                                `skin-color' --- - it's "race" and
                                "racial" heritage," Williams says.

                                His white grandmother lived less
                                than 10 minutes away in Muncie,
                                yet brutally rejected the two boys.

                                After they begged for their mother's
                                address so they could write her, she
                                ordered them out of her car, saying,
                                "I don't carry messages for n***rs!"

                                Only his mother's youngest sister
                                kept in touch with Williams.

                                By contrast, his "black" relatives and
                                their community accepted the two boys
                                after some playground scuffles and taunts.

                                "We became "black" ["identified"].
                                Those were the people who were supporting us.
                                I became proud of my heritage.
                                I realized who I was.

                                Moreover Williams had seen his father
                                "pass" for [being `mono'-racially]
                                `White' and the pain he suffered
                                emotionally at this self-denial.

                                Economically, however, "passing"
                                generated much more money.

                                Back in Virginia, his father's businesses
                                grossed more than $50,000 in 1951.

                                After the family moved to Muncie, the
                                best job his 41-year-old father, who
                                had attended Howard University, could
                                get was as a janitor for $50.50 a week.

                                What saved Williams in the end was a woman
                                named Miss Dora, who took in the two boys,
                                providing them with a stable home.

                                At 52, Miss Dora earned $25 a week as a
                                domestic, yet fed and cared for the boys.

                                "This woman saved my life," says Williams,
                                who dedicated the book to her, his wife
                                and his now-deceased father who, despite
                                his drinking and difficulties, always
                                encouraged Williams to dream and achieve.

                                His mother, however, remains a wound.

                                Williams understands why she left her husband,
                                but she has never apologized or even admitted
                                that she abandoned two small boys for 10 years.

                                (She periodically returned to Muncie
                                yet never contacted her sons. )
                                When he saw her at age 20,
                                "She didn't want to talk to us about
                                how we had survived, what we had
                                gone through," Williams says.
                                "She was in denial. "
                                When Williams told her recently
                                that the book was to be published,
                                "she was not happy about it."

                                Williams traveled back to Muncie
                                recently and ... visited his
                                elementary school and [discovered]
                                "life has not changed a lot in 31 years"
                                in terms of what "black" children
                                can expect from this world.

                                While he believes there have been
                                "some advances in race relations,there
                                continues to be a lot of divisions. "

                                Quite simply, Williams says it is hard
                                for whites to understand how "overpowering
                                and overshadowing the perceptions about
                                "blacks" in this society can be.
                                "It's very difficult"

                                <<<<<

                                BOOK EXCERPT:

                                `Remember Miss Sallie who used
                                to work for us in the tavern?'
                                Dad's lower lip quivered.
                                He look ill.
                                Had he always looked this unhealthy,
                                I wondered, or was it something
                                that had happened on the trip?
                                `It's hard to tell you boys this,'
                                He paused, then slowly added,
                                `But she's really my momma.
                                That means she's your grandmother. '
                                `But that can't be, Dad!
                                She's Colored!'
                                I whispered, lest I be overheard by
                                the other white passengers on the bus.
                                `That's right, Billy,'
                                he continued.
                                `She's Colored.
                                That makes you
                                Part-Colored, too.'...
                                I didn't understand Day.
                                I knew I wasn't Colored, and neither was he.
                                My skin was white.
                                All of us are white, I said to myself.
                                But for the first time, I had to admit
                                Dad didn't exactly look white.
                                His deeply tanned skin puzzled me
                                as I sat there trying to
                                classify my own father...
                                `I don't wanta be Colored,' Mike whined.
                                `I don't wanta be Colored.
                                We can't go swimming' or skatin,'...
                                I glanced across the aisle to where (Dad) sat
                                grimfaced and erect, staring straight ahead.
                                I saw my father as I never had seen him before.
                                The veil dropped from his face and features.
                                Before my eyes he was transformed
                                from a swarthy Italian to his true
                                self ----- `a high- yellow Mulatto'.
                                My father was [classified as' "a Negro"!
                                We were Colored!
                                After ten years in Virginia on the white side
                                of the Color-Line, I knew what that meant.

                                From `Life on the Color Line'

                                Dawn D.
                                Bennett-Alexander


                                ]]]]]




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