I grew up in Dallas in the 1950’s, during the Jim Crow era. When I was 8 years old, I walked with our housekeeper’s daughter, who was Black, to the local drugstore to buy a soda. We were told by a not-so-nice waitress to get off the stools at the counter. Feeling shame and hurt, we walked home in silence. I did not know how to act or what to say. I told no one about this.
Growing up a girl in Dallas back then had other restrictions. I was supposed to be pretty, dress in frills, and not be too smart.
