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The Jena Six. For most Americans, it is a news story - apalling, repugnant - but just a news story. For some, it's old news. For me, it hit a little closer to home. And considering how for the first time in American History we may have a president of color who is helping to open up discussion (and many hope along with it, healing of our nation), pausing to think on how we treat each other is timely and important.
My father's family is from Jena. My octagenarian grandfather was superintendent of the school district for many years. My father played with the current Jena High School principal after school when he was a kid. It's a place I visit periodically for Christmas or Thanksgiving. And as sad as the story makes me, I can't say I'm surprised.Actually, my dad grew up in Summerville, a place so small, you could literally pass it if you happened to sneeze when you drove by. In fact, other than the Free Methodist Church, which is close to extinction, and Rooster's, a gas station that sells incredibly tasty boudain balls, it's hard to tell you've made it to town. And going to the city means driving 20 miles to Jena, which by comparison is almost cosmopolitan.
I love my family. Flaws and all. I love my great-aunts. Women, who would give the shirt off their back for someone they loved. Literally. But these same women would stun me when visit after visit, they spewed off-hand comments about how Black people were to blame for most societal ills and petty crimes of the neighborhood.
It made me uncomfortable and I blamed it on their age - in their 80s, they were still living as though the civil war might still be won by the south. When they'd get started, I often left feeling dirty, disgusted and thankful that my parents raised me with a different set of values.
Having said all this, I was not surprised at all to hear that one of the biggest stories of last year involving bigotry and racism was in Jena, Louisiana. As an American, it shames me that we haven't progressed farther in race relations. As a white person, I'm even more ashamed and feel driven to do my best to stand up for freedom, civil rights and equality for everyone.
As a mom, the story inspires me to teach my son right from wrong, to show him in action and word that all are created equal, to tell him the struggles of so many who have gone on before us that gave their lives so that their children and their children's children may drink from the same fountain, ride in the front of the bus and attend the same schools and have the same opportunities. I want him to know of their courage, bravery and strength and how it has enriched our lives today.
Being a woman isn't always just about what goes on in our own little sphere of the universe. Being a mom isn’t just teaching kids to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘excuse me’ when they burp. Being a mom involves doing our little part to stamp out prejudice and hate. Teaching our children who Martin Luther King, Jr. was. Teaching them about Ghandi. Teaching them about civil disobedience and the struggles of minorities and how their struggles have impacted our world for the better.
And hopefully, by teaching them these things and living life respectfully towards others, we will leave a mark that will continue to inspire love, peace and balance in this world. Because, as the human race, we are all connected - we are all one. And when one part of the body hurts, the entire body feels pain with it. The eye is not separate from the nose, neither the finger from the elbow. They cannot exist apart from the body and likewise, we truly cannot exist in the fullness we are meant to, when we are divided by hate, ignorance and prejudice.
We cannot feel removed from Jena, removed from the injustice of 6 teenage boys that faced ridiculous charges for their circumstances. We cannot
