MLK Day Conversation

by Rich H. Kenney Jr., MSSW

     “So, what do you guys think about MLK Day?”

     It was Victor, one of four teens in the van I was driving. We were bound for the art studio at the Foundation for Blind Children in Phoenix, Arizona. Blind since birth, as were the other students in the van, Victor was Mexican American and curious about what his friends, all European American, thought about the holiday.

     “I’m just glad to have the day off,” said Krista.

     “But it’s not a day off,” Ken said. “We’re on our way to work, aren’t we?”

     In my rearview mirror, I was watching Amber, whose fingers were gently wrapped around her white cane. “I wouldn’t call it work,” she countered. “More like adventure.”

     The “adventure” was a project in which the students were sculpting a piece that would say something about their blindness. They would eventually create a bronze figure of a young girl holding a butterfly entitled, "All Things Are Possible."

     Realizing how much the project meant to them, I looked forward to my daily chauffeuring duties that January nearly fifteen years ago. There were certain perks, as well, in being their driver. Unexpected ones… like their frank and free-wheeling conversations.

     Victor jumped in again. “MLK Day, guys. What’s it mean?”

     “Believe it or not,” Amber said, “MLK Day always reminds me of Thanksgiving. I remember one Thanksgiving, when I was five or six, all my relatives came over and we were sitting at the table eating dinner. My aunt was talking about some black people who had moved into the house next to her. And one of my uncles was talking about how some white guy at work was mad that a black guy got the promotion he wanted. For the longest time, the conversation was about black people and white people. It made me wonder what color I was, and I asked, 'Am I black or white?'"

     “I didn’t know what color I was until first grade,” said Ken. “It was when one of my classmates called another the N word. I had to ask my mother what it meant.”

     “Man, it was altogether different for me,” Victor disclosed. “I heard words like ‘beaner’ and ‘grease ball’ before I could even write my own name.”

     Krista, sitting next to Victor, reached out for his hand and draped hers over his. "This may sound weird,” she said, “but sometimes I'm glad I am blind. I can't see skin or someone's looks. Friends ask me why I spend time with ugly people. Ugly people? It is what’s inside that matters – not looks or skin color.”

     “You calling me ugly?” Victor teased, with a good-natured nudge.

     Laughter.

     It’s a conversation that I often think back to… their stories, like canes, tapping on truths; their words, windows to a much bigger picture.

Rich H. Kenney, Jr., MSSW, is an associate professor and Social Work Program Director at Chadron State College in Chadron, Nebraska.