Racial Autobiography

Hope Taylor

I was born in Orlando, Florida to two college students who

attended UCF. I was given the name Hope for the hope in Jesus Christ.
My dads dad was born and raised in Alabama, his mother in Waycross,
Ga. Every now and then some racial comment would be made during
a football game and Pop would call the players boy or coach. I
dont remember thinking about race much until I moved to Kinston,
North Carolina with my mom and her new husband in the fourth grade.
I moved from the east coast of Florida to a very rural tobacco country.
It was an area of North Carolina that was split racially 50/50 black and
white. My fifth grade teacher was black, Mrs. Ward, the same last
name as my mom. The teacher next door was black and our principal
was black. I played with black friends at school but none lived around
me. I moved in with my dad my sixth grade year and attended middle
school in Palm Harbor where the majority of the inhabitants were white
or Hispanic. Toward the end of my sixth grade year I moved back to
NC with my mom. This is the first time that I felt like an outsider. My
black friends were at the middle school but I quickly found myself
unpopular with the white girls due to my friendships with my African
American friends. I did not understand the mentality behind this. It
became so bad that a group of white girls tried to start a fight with me

after lunch one day. To my surprise, the African American girls and
boys that were my friends stood behind me. I was the only white girl
standing on the side facing those who looked more like me yet shared
none of my ideals. I was called many names and shunned by my peers
because I was unconcerned about race up until that point. After that
day, I realized the racial divide and appreciated my friends of color for
looking out for me when chastised by other peers for befriending them.
Those girls didnt dare bother me again. I completed middle school in
NC then again moved to Florida with my dad. This time I lived in
Dunedin and attended Dunedin High School. This was the first time
that I became aware that races shouldnt mix. I dated several
different guys and each time found out how race played a part each
time. It didnt matter to me what ethnicity the guy was, but that was
not the case for my grandparents. My longest relationship in Florida
was with a clarinet player who was Greek. Interestingly enough, his
parents wanted him to find a nice Greek girl. We dated for about a
year. Again I was uprooted and moved back to NC. I had a mix of
friends this time. I started to date again and hung out with more white
friends than black at this point. My senior year was tumultuous. I
ended up moving out on my own with a boyfriend and best friend. I
began working at Golden Corral with a majority of African American
workers in the kitchen. I again made friends of another color who
became most of my social connections. I got married and had my first

daughter after dropping out of high school. After a year and a half of
marriage, my first husband left me and my daughter because he
couldnt handle the pressure of being a father and husband. After he
left was the first time that I began to date interracially in a very racially
divided town. It was interesting to say the least. Not only did the
white people that I was friends with react with horror, the black
females were uncomfortable with it as well. Some of the parents of
these black men flat out told me that their sons were better off with a
black woman. When I would get asked out on a date by an African
American male, I would hear the comment five years to life making
reference to the amount of prison time he would get for raping a white
girl.
I attended college after getting my GED and began to date a
white man. We ended up having a daughter out of wedlock in 1993.
We broke up for a time due to differing views on substance abuse. I
was a criminal justice major and he an alcoholic. During our split, I
dated interracially again. I became very close to one person in
particular whose mother was less than thrilled that he was dating a
white girl. We became very close until he was picked up on a
possession with intent to sell charge. I was doing my internship with
the police department and was in the car when he was arrested. I lost
my position at the Kinston Police Department due to my association
with him. I ended up completing my internship in a neighboring county

after being humiliated by my instructor at the college. I was able to

spend some time with a juvenile justice officer and working in the jail
as well. I found that just because I was associated with this man, I
would be shut out of a career in this small town if the relationship
continued. We were pressured from all sides, his family, mine, school,
my girls dads. It wasnt very long after that we broke up. I was
heartbroken. These were two relationships that ended due to outside
racial pressures.
When I was about 22 years old, I worked at Golden Corral. I
would often drive the guys that I worked with home to East Kinston. I
was stopped a time or two because I was a white girl in that part of
town at night. Once I was pulled over and the police officer told me
that white girls dont go to that side of town unless they are buying
drugs or turning tricks. Still in my uniform from Golden Corral, I had to
explain why I was there so late at night. Another time, a co-workers
daughter stole my rings and through them into a field close to East
Kinston. I went looking for them and was questioned by cops again
about what I was doing on that side of town. It was like being forced to
stay in white areas.
I recall that people that I hadnt heard from in years would call
me just to tell me that they had heard that I was dating a black guy
and just wanted to dispel the rumors. Eventually my second
daughters dad and I got back together, got married, and had two more

children. Since then I have had many instances to be friend those of

color in professional settings. I began teaching in 2000 at a majority
minority school in Grifton, NC. The principal was black and wasnt my
biggest fan. The person in the position before me had left a mess
behind for her to clean up. I learned quickly how to write IEPs,
collaborate with parents and try to earn the respect of this principal.
About half of the teaching staff were African American. 70% of
students were African American. I taught Language Arts and Math to
anyone with an IEP. With the help of the other two teachers at this
middle school, both African American, we were able to move our
students forward and try some innovating things for that time. My first
five years of teaching were some of my favorite. I had my kids for
three years due to my position. Many of them went to church with me
or began to call me mom. During this time, my husband, who grew up
in Kinston, would make derogatory comments about my relationship
with my students. I coached basketball, an almost all black team, and
went to many of the sporting events to support my students. My
oldest two girls attended this school as well. The music we listened to,
many fashions and even the vernacular that we used outside of school
was much more African American than our native white skin. It was
just our norm. In 2005 I moved back to Florida with all of my children
and husband and experienced a huge culture shock. Most of the faces
in my room were white and some Hispanic. The teachers were all

white along with the administrators. The part of Pasco County that I
moved to was very different than where I had come from. When I
traveled to Tampa with my cheerleading squad, things were much
different. At one game at Progress Village, I saw a woman wearing a
jersey with the name Crum at the top. I stopped her and asked if that
was her last name. She told me yes. I told her that my maiden name
was Crum, She looked at me puzzled and asked if my dad was black. I
politely answered no and wondered if at a different time both of our
ancestors shared space on the same plantation.
My interest in African American people, as you can see, comes
from the history that I have with some very special people. My dad,
later in life, told me that I have the personality of Queen Latifah. At
one point, I wished to be her. Looking back, that was probably unheard
of, a white girl wanting to grow up to be an African American woman.
I wanted to marry Prince, painted my room purple, and saved my
money so I could buy Purple Rain for my Beta Max. During this time,
my moms husband would make comments about my taste which
made it evident his views on race. This was ironic because he watched
Sanford and Son every night and had a record that I remember hearing
over and over of Richard Pryors stand up comedy, entitled, That
Niggers Crazy.

Looking back now, I can also remember racial jokes,

how he referred to the other side of town, and how you could never
trust black people or Jews.

In 2012 or so, my family and I attended a wedding in St.

Augustine, Florida. I had been there before but not since I was a little
girl. My kids and I continued to visit and learn more about the town.
We visited frequently taking trolley tours and doing all the things that
the tour guides pointed out. In 2014 we returned in January to
celebrate three of my four childrens birthdays. Two of my children and
myself went into the exhibit in the Visitors Center entitled The
Journey. This exhibit featured the history of African Americans in St.
Augustine going back 450 years. The exhibit was there as a
commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights movement.
I began to take pictures and read all of the information on display. I
learned that the first African American free settlement was established
there hundreds of years before at a place called Fort Mose. I learned
the first college in Florida was an HBCU called Florida Normal College
which is now in Miami called Florida Memorial. I also learned that St.
Augustine was instrumental in the Civil Rights movement, that Dr.
Martin Luther King Jr. had been arrested there several times and his
fingerprints were on display. I started to visit the places in the
passport that they gave me at the exhibit and discovered
Lincolnville. This was another first. This was the part of town that
freed slaves moved to settle after Emancipation. I visited the Civil
Rights Museum there, walked the Freedom Trail, and learned about the
plight of African Americans in St. Augustine through two

documentaries, one by Andrew Young, called Crossing in St. Augustine,

and another by a new film maker called Dare Not Walk Alone. I have
been obsessed with the topic ever since. I met the local Civil Rights
leader at a panel in September of 2014 at the Florida Heritage Book
Festival along with others who wrote about their experiences with the
NAACP and the movement. This summer from June 20-25, I attended a
week long Civil Rights in North Florida workshop with lead scholar
Michael Butler. Professors from FAMU, civil rights foot soldiers and
students from UF doing oral histories in Lincolnville all came and
presented to us. I went through some emotional turmoil during some
of the presentations and met some amazing women. African American
history in Florida is part of my interest in my cognate area. There is so
many stories that need to be told and so many inequities that need to
be righted. Something has been preparing me for some work that last
two years.
I often tell people that I am black on the inside no matter what I
look like on the outside. In some ways, I identify with my friends of
color. Somehow I dont quite fit into any one category of people. I
often am the only white face in a crowd. On a Saturday night walking
tour about the history of the Civil Rights movement with Ms. B in St.
Augustine, my daughter and I were the only two white people in a
group of about 30. This summer the friends I made were African
American. Students I teach tell me sometimes that I sound black. I

guess it is just who I am. Maybe I am a chameleon who can change for
the setting. Again I find myself the only white face in a crowd as a
student in CRT. I wonder if these women wonder why I am here. I am
here to further my knowledge on how to make changes and to find the
route in which to find that change. I am secure in the color of my skin
and the person I am within. I embrace being different and I love the
classes that will help me to gain knowledge to put practice some sort
of social justice related dissertation. There is no need to turn back
now. I am moving forward strange looks and all.