Story time (again).

This one is about the time I was accused of racism by the local chapter of the NAACP.

Are you ready for it?

It was 20 or 25 years ago. I was working in an inner city high school. One of the students—a minor—was being pursued and possibly exploited by a grown man who worked in the same building.

I intervened by confronting the man and his employer, and by going to the child’s family.

The child was Black. The man was White. The child thought she was an adult and could make her own decisions.

The child said that I was upset not because she was a child and her “friend” was an adult, but rather it was because she was Black and he was White.

Nope.

The child’s parents believed the child.

Despite my imploring them that this was about age not race, they didn’t believe me. They went to the local NAACP for a mediation.

We had a big meeting. It was very tense.

Did you know that you cannot defend yourself against racism? You can’t, really.

But you know what else? I knew then as I know know that when you live in a society that was built on generations of racism, you can not possibly know when something is not racism. You can’t. Nope.

So the meeting ended in an impasse.

I told myself then the principle I live by now: My life is my defense. My life is my testimony.

And you know what?

That child is all grown up now. Married and with the most beautiful family you might see. (And not with that predator.)

She and I reconnected years ago and have a delightful relationship. She is such a blessing to me and I pray I am to her.

Truth always out.

Your life is your testimony.

Your whole life.

Testify well in it all. Or as much as is humanly possible.

The end.

PS I hate typos.