Spectre of racism still casts a pall, but state is seeing attitudes change along with its politicians
Sep 27, 2008 04:30 AM
Jesse Washington ASSOCIATED PRESS
CORINTH, Miss.–On a small-town Saturday night, a half-block from the town square where a deteriorating Confederate statue stands guard, state Senator Eric Powell walks into a restaurant for dinner.
Powell orders fried pickles. Bubba Carpenter, a Republican state representative, ambles over with his 5-year-old son, Noah. The two freshmen legislators make small talk about a Civil War re-enactment and plans to attend the scheduled debate between Barack Obama and John McCain at the University of Mississippi.
Noah wordlessly reaches his hand across the table, palm up. Powell gently slaps him five, his large brown hand swallowing Noah's tiny white one.
This is the new Mississippi – where Powell, a Democrat, is the first black person ever elected to the state legislature from a rural white district. Where a combination of the murderous past and the nation's largest percentage of black residents have, in some surprising ways, pushed Mississippi race relations ahead of the rest of the nation.
The spectre of the past rose when Obama visited the campus where segregationists fought federal troops to keep James Meredith from integrating Ole Miss in 1962. Obama is fighting his own historic battle for the presidency in the face of what polls indicate is racial prejudice. But the backdrop has changed as these storylines meet.
Carpenter, whose district adjacent to Powell's has only one stoplight, says people in the area "don't look at Eric as a black man. They knew his character, his beliefs, what he stood for. They elected a person, not a Democrat, Republican, black or white.'
Make no mistake, though – Powell is black and knows it. Growing up near Corinth in Tishomingo County, which is 98 per cent white, he and his father were once told to order at the back door of a hamburger stand. Recently, Powell and his son had to wait half an hour for service at a barbecue restaurant.
Everyone in Mississippi, which is 37 per cent black, understands racism lives on. And what of the rest of the country, which is 12 per cent black? A recent AP-Yahoo poll found racial attitudes could cost Obama a close election, 55 per cent of whites said "a lot" or "some" discrimination exists, while almost all blacks felt that way.
Powell, 42, attended integrated schools and got hooked on politics after being elected class president at Tishomingo High in grades 10, 11 and 12. He works at an integrated paper mill and lives with his wife and three children in an integrated neighbourhood. He saw blacks elected mayor of Corinth and come within four votes of being elected Tishomingo sheriff.
So when Powell was first asked to run for state Senate in 2003, he was unfazed by his district's 91 per cent white and solidly Republican population. Powell lost then by 630 votes. Last year, he ran again and received 8,571 votes, 497 more than his opponent.
"Part of the new Mississippi is you have a group of older people, white and black, that always cared about black people,' Powell says. "They're not going to say a whole lot. But they go to the polls and vote.'
A statue of James Meredith now stands on the Ole Miss campus, near an administration building that remains marked by bullets fired in 1962. The university is home to a diverse student body and the Institute of Racial Reconciliation.
Republican Governor Haley Barbour has signed bills to create a civil rights curriculum for public schools and a civil rights museum in Jackson, the state capital. The airport there already bears the name of slain civil rights leader Medgar Evers.
Blacks are part of the power structure now, holding 49 of the state legislature's 174 seats, plus dozens of mayor and county supervisor positions.
Yet there has never been a black state-wide official in Mississippi since Reconstruction. There are 26 active white hate groups in the state, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. The Council of Conservative Citizens, which opposes racial integration and says America should "remain European in character," recently had 34 members in the state House of representatives, according to the centre.
Mississippi knows racism lives on, which is one reason why it offers powerful lessons about how to move on.
In some ways, the rest of the nation has no choice but to follow.
Whites are projected to be a minority in the United States by the year 2042. In the new Mississippi, whites are expected to be a minority by 2015.
Hunter Harris Booker T. Washington High School freshman
By Hunter Harris 11/17/2008 Last Modified: 11/17/2008 2:33 AM
Since Election Day, African-American teens across the nation have rejoiced for Sen. Barack Obama, their new black president, and everything that means to them.
But what about me? What about African-American teens who don't wear Obama '08 T-shirts? Those of us who don't brag about "us" finally having a black president? Those of us whose lives went on after Obama was elected?
I listened in disbelief the day after the election as Sherri Shepherd of "The View" started crying when she was asked to give her perspective. Among other things, she said she could now tell her son — without lying — he can be anything he wants to be when he grows up.
My mouth dropped open. I had to press rewind on my DVR remote so I could hear that again. Since when does someone of my race becoming president validate me to be anything? I fail to understand how having a black president teaches a child that he can be anything or do anything he wants (within reason, of course).
When my parents told me that I could be anything, I didn't hesitate to believe them even though there hadn't been a black president. And I wonder, what if Barack Obama had let that stop him?
My world is full of people. Not black people, brown people, pink people or red people. It's full of people whom I like and whom I respect.
But I must be a minority, no pun intended, and that saddens me.
I grew up in a predominantly white world. Until coming to Booker T. Washington, that world was neither black nor white. It was just people. People who shared my values, loved the movies I loved, did the same work I did. All of my friends were white.
And really, until I wrote those sentences, I never noticed. When it comes to being black or white, I don't see stereotypes or color. I see people.
I remember the first time I saw a presidential poster (you know the ones the red posters that have all the presidents on them). I was 5 in Mrs. Dotson's kindergarten class. Gazing up at that huge poster full of men, I thought: "Where's the woman? Why isn't there a woman president?"
And now that I think of it, almost a decade later, I realize I was the only African-American student in that classroom. But I really don't care.
Like I said, I try not to see color. And when I do, I chastise myself and go back to business.
I don't believe Obama sees color, either, and that's why I like him.
On election night, as I watched the TV, I was in awe of how many people — how many races and genders and socio-economic levels — Sen. Obama had managed to attract.
In a world where color is so prevalent, we need someone who doesn't make a big deal out of something so petty.
-----
Comment
---
DavidEB, Reston (11/17/2008 5:54:08 AM)
Your experience is evidence that there is progress. When I began high school in 1958 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, there was one black girl and everyone was aware of it. When Gwen Bailey graduated, she was replaced by one more black girl, Lois Coleman. Both girls participated in the high school and performed with the marching band, but at the time, no one thought any black child could grow up to president. Few thought a girl would want to become president. Except the girls who wanted to be. Your generation probably doesn't understand how our time shaped us, no more than we can understand how yours shapes you. But intellectually, it's nice to hear about progress that wasn't imaginable as I was growing up.
News 
Market Data 
Discover 
AI
