Journey of a Bold Black American Woman

By Dr. Gloria Willis

This journey is the life of an ordinary, everyday, person that made a difference in an extraordinary way in the home, the church, the community and in the USA. Her journey is an examination of the challenges faced as a minority in attempting to overcome racism and prejudice in a hostile society. She tested the Civil Rights Act, and marched several times with Dr. Martin L. King, Jr. The struggles faced in order to participate to make a positive contribution. The price paid for insisting upon living free in such an existence; and suggestion for paying the debt in full. Her journey includes fifty years after the Civil Rights Act was passed in 1964. Her lifes experience also touched on elderly abuse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524615338

Dr. Gloria Willis

Gloria Willis was born in the Deep South and spent her childhood there. After finishing Business College in New Orleans, La., at the age of eighteen she moved to Washington, D. C. She immediately began work as a federal employee and after over thirty-one years of service she retired as a federal auditor. Dr. Willis continued her education and received a BS degree in Business Administration from Federal City College, Washington, D.C.; MA degree in Psychology from the University of the District of Columbia; Ph.D. degree from Sierra University, Costa Mesa, CA. She resides in Lompoc, CA.

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JOURNEY OF A

BOLD BLACK

AMERICAN WOMAN

Fifty Years after Testing

the Civil Rights Act

by Dr. Gloria Willis

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© 2016 Dr. Gloria Willis. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    07/14/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1534-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1535-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1533-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Journey of a Bold Black American Woman, by Gloria Willis, is nonfiction. These are memories, reflections, and personal experiences, covering a period of eighty years, and are my personal opinion. Names have been omitted to protect the identity of innocent individuals.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version. NIV. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]

Contents

Dedication

Special Thanks and Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1     Growing Up in the South

Chapter 2     Moving to Washington, DC

Chapter 3     Years of Living in DC

Chapter 4     Two Summer Vacations That Tested     the Civil Rights Act

Chapter 5     Marching with Dr. Martin L. King Jr.

Chapter 6     The Cross-Country Move

Chapter 7     The Move to Lompoc

Chapter 8     The Lompoc Valley Community Youth Center

Chapter 9     Life after the Youth Center Reopened

Chapter 10     The Youth Center Collapses

Chapter 11     Four Great Losses

Chapter 12     When Is the Debt Paid in Full?

Chapter 13     Freedom—A High-Priced Ticket Item

Chapter 14     Living Conditions in America Today

About the Author

About the Book

Resources

Autobiography—Maya Angelou

Hymn—His Eye is on the Sparrow

Inaugural Address: President John F. Kennedy

Unspoken Speech: President John F. Kennedy

Psalm 23

The Gettysburg Address

The Negro National Anthem

The US National Anthem

Dedication

To all of my family and friends, especially to the following:

My brother and sister, Nathaniel McKan and Joyce Makel; my nieces, Michelle Makel and Denise Childress; my grandsons, Clarence Musa Willis, III and Michael Turk; my great-grandson, Clarence Musa Willis, IV; my friends, Celestina (Pinky) Columbus, Brenda Darby, and Karen Chandler. To the Adolescents, teenagers, and young adults of Lompoc, California.

And in memory of:

My mother, Mrs. Dassie V. McKan; my husband, Clarence Willis, Sr.; my son, Herbert (Sluggo) Wise, Jr.; my daughter, Luvinia Wise; my granddaughter, Maryam Willis; my friend, Jo Alicia Zucker; and my friend, Peggy Lasky.

Special Thanks and Acknowledgments

Now the manuscript is finished and not because of anything I invented or created to get it done. No, it was done first of all because God allowed it to happen. Not only did He allow it to happen, but I am convinced He was there from start to finish. Without His strong hand holding me up, I would have stumbled and fallen by the wayside before the first chapter was completed. I thank God for giving me the strength and the courage needed to write the manuscript.

I wrote this book not only because the hand of God was upon me. No, I need to also thank my friend of many years, Brenda Darby, for igniting the flame that got this book started, and her encouragement and assistance in getting me help to make sure things moved along without any problem. It was because she insisted I share my life’s journey with others that I decided to write the book at this time. When I was leaving Brenda’s home the day after attending a reception she had invited me to, where she had me tell my story, she said, Let us pray about the success of the book. In her prayer she asked the Lord to bring back memories I would need to write about. I thanked Brenda for what she had said about my memory being restored. I owe that insightful wisdom to her because I know the Lord answered her prayer. My memory came back as though I were living in those days of many years ago.

I want to thank my sister, Joyce Makel, for thoroughly reviewing the first two chapters of the book and offering suggestions for changes. She jogged my memory about some of our experiences together. I also want to thank her for listening to me when I called her across the country to get her thoughts on a particular idea that was troubling me. Her support was greatly appreciated.

I also want to thank Rev. Gloria Mitchell, PhD, for helping me get through two chapters of this book. Not only is she an author and publisher in her own right, but she reviewed and offered helpful suggestions for improving several chapters. She also walked me through the step to self-publish a book. I am greatly indebted to her for taking time from her tight schedule while she is in the process of having one of her own books released.

I have learned on my journey through life that once we commit to an idea, we can trust God to put the people in place for it to become a reality. The writing of this book is one example of this. When I returned from Brenda’s reception, I told Karen I had promised Brenda I would put my talk into a book. She immediately said I should write one. Once I told Karen I had committed to writing it, she picked it up and ran with the plan. Whenever we talked, she would ask me how the book was coming along. I would tell her where I was and that I had remembered something from my past that I had not thought about for many years. She was always encouraging and would say I should put what I told her in the book.

The book drove me—I did not write it on my own. If Karen had not encouraged me, it would not have been completed. I am grateful to her, and I owe her a debt of gratitude for having the confidence in me and not letting me off the hook. She became my accountability person. I felt driven to share with her what was going on in my heart and mind. She never criticized but always responded with you should put that in the book. Karen was so committed that she took one section—five chapters—reviewed it, and offered needed suggestions for improvement. Karen, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for you being you. I also thank God for bringing our paths together.

Introduction

As I sit here, I remember a promise I made my husband thirty-four years ago. I was home on sick leave, recovering from a back injury sustained while on a job assignment away from home. My husband was sitting with me, and I was telling him about some of the incidents that occurred while I was at work. I had been on a temporary assignment for six weeks in Nashville, Tennessee, and at that time we had been married only six months, but we had dated two years before we married.

I was a field auditor, and when I would return from an assignment, I would tell my husband about some of the things that had happened at the office. This was no different than any other trip, so as I told him about some of the things that had happened on that trip, he said to me that I should write a book.

I was confined to the bed and would be for at least six weeks, during which writing a book seemed like it might be doable. I told him I would think about what he said and maybe I would do it. Clarence made me promise to do it some day. That seemed like a plan, so I promised. As it turned out, my life took a turn. My back did not mend to the place where I could return to work, so I took an early disability retirement. It came after two years of an unsuccessful recovery period.

I did not think any more about the promise to write the book until now. I have always led a purpose-driven life, with a plan for every year I have been blessed with. Now that I find myself with nothing meaningful to do, I thought to myself that it might be time to write that book. However, that did not motivate me into getting started. What did motivate me was one my oldest friends that has been interested in my life’s experiences began to have me, as she would put it, tell my story to people in her life.

Recently, when she had a special event in her life, she invited me. The program was enjoyable, and afterwards she invited a group of her closest and dearest friends to a reception. Before the reception was over she had me tell my story. When I was leaving to return home, I had an idea. I told my friend that instead of coming to different events where to tell my story, I would write a book that everyone could read.

This pleased her, and before long, by the Lord’s will, I completed it. At the beginning I shared my plan to write this only with one grandson. He was encouraging and wanted me to keep him informed on my progress. He is special for having that kind of interest in what his grandmother is doing.

I also wanted to write in a manner that it can be used as information, reference, and for educational purposes. I wanted to write in a way that it will become a learning tool in referencing contributions from ordinary, everyday people, not just a hand-picked group.

I wanted this book to be designed to be recommended as a textbook because of the social conditions and contributions made by ordinary people in contemporary times.

On my journey through life and because of my unique experiences in growing up in the South, we were faced with some bitter truths. I deal with some thought-provoking words, definitions, concepts, such as:

• White Supremacy—The belief that the white race is superior to and should have supremacy over all other races, especially the black race.

• Jim Crow—the systematic practice of discriminating against and suppressing blacks.

• Desegregation—the abolishment of the practice of segregating blacks and whites.

• Discrimination—treatment or consideration based on class or category rather than individual merit; partiality or prejudice.

Equality—the state or quality of being equal.

• Integration—the act or practice of integrating.

• Justice—the upholding of what is just, especially fair treatment and the due reward in accordance with honor, standards, or law.

• Racism—the belief that race accounts for differences in human character or ability and that a particular race is superior to others; discrimination or prejudice based on race.

• Segregation—the policy and practice of imposing the social separation of races.

Unity—the state of quality of being one; singleness.

I end this book, Journey of a Bold Black American Woman, through my lens, from my observations and experiences with examples of present-day living conditions in America, and with an appeal for unity.

New Orleans (1930)

Chapter 1

Growing Up in the South

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. …

Love your neighbor as yourself.—Mt 22:37–39

White supremacy, segregation, and racism were an integral part of my experience in growing up in the South. I do not know how or why, but I did not always accept my status and place as a second-class citizen.

I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, and when my father died, my mother was left with three small, helpless children. My parents owned a home in Pearlington, Mississippi, but my mother did not want to return there. She had been educated in New Orleans, we had relatives there on both sides, and she felt we would have better opportunities for success if we were brought up in Louisiana. My mother also chose not to remarry because she did not want another man to have influence over the way we were brought up. I will always remember my mother for having the courage, the strength, and the will to make the self-sacrifice and bring us up alone. We were loved by my mother and our relatives.

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Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel McKan (my parents)

A Four-Year-Old Militant

I started to make my statement at an early age. Yes, that is right. At the age of four I committed my first act of civil disobedience. as the youngest militant recorded in history, or at least in my family. My earliest recollection of my childhood was an experience in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. I have one brother two years older than I am and a sister two years younger than me. My father died when I was two, my brother was four, and my sister was an infant. I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, and my mother’s best friend, who was also my godmother, lived in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. My godmother was a teacher, and after my father died, Aunt Neat and Uncle Willie (my godparents) would come and get the three of us and take us to their home during the summer months.

My godparents had no children, and they were happy to take us for the summer. They lived in the city, but at that time the city was mostly undeveloped. They lived on a farm of a sort. They had chickens and a cow named Susie. There was a fence around the property to keep Susie from wandering off. In spite of their best efforts, sometimes she still would manage to wander off, and we would go find her and bring her back home before dark.

My godfather ran his own business. He was a mechanic, and he had a repair shop on the property with a fence around it. When vehicles came to the shop, they had to get out of the vehicle and open these two large gates to enter. When someone drove up, my brother and I would gladly jump on one of the gates and ride it back for the person entering the yard.

On this particular day, a white man drove up. We opened the gates, and he pulled half-way through the gates and stopped. He asked: Is Willie home? My brother said yes. The man asked a second time and my brother said, Yes he is home, come on in. Then the man asked a third time. I do not know how I knew, but I said to my brother: He wants you to say yes, sir. I said, If you want to see my uncle, come on in, if not come on, Man,—I called my brother Man—let’s close these gates.

We jumped up on the gates, but the car was preventing us from closing them. By this time my godmother had come from the house. My sister was just a toddler and was walking too slowly, so my godmother picked her up and was carrying her. By this time my godfather had come up from the shop. The man got out of the car as my godfather came near. He said to the man, Come on in here. These children are from New Orleans; they do not mean any harm.

The man got out of his car. I think by this time he had forgotten why he had come. He and my uncle began walking towards the shop when the man said, If I had them for a week, I would have them saying yes, sir. I probably reached the man’s kneecap, and I was walking right behind him. I said, If I had you for two weeks I would have you saying yes sir and yes ma’am, too. My godmother picked up both me and my sister and took us to the house.

When I was relating this incident to my brother as I was writing this book he told me that the matter did not stop there. After the customer left the property, my brother said my uncle told my aunt we were not safe now, and they needed to take us back to New Orleans. The next day my godparents put us in their car and drove us back home. That cut our summer vacation short that year, but it did not stop my godparents from coming and taking us to Bay St. Louis in the years that followed. This incident with the white man could have broken my spirit and made me fearful of white people, as it did so many black people in my early years of growing up in the South. Instead, it gave me the strength and courage to speak up for what I felt was right. It shaped my life and made me determined to speak on behalf of so many people after I became an adult.

I knew from that day on that I was free and continued to live my life as though the word freedom had meaning. I do not know how I knew, but I did. Years later, when I thought about what I had said, I wondered how that affected my godparents. Things turned out fine. No one burned the house down or burned a cross on the lawn.

My godparents set a shining example for us to follow. Because of their courage and love for us, they continued to come and get my brother, my sister, and me every summer for many years. After I was grown and had moved away, I still went to see my godparents. One time when we were visiting my godmother and the two of us were alone, I asked her why they always took all three of us instead of just me. She simply replied, Because we thought it was the right thing to do. I never forgot that statement, and from then until now, when it comes to other people, I try to do the right thing. She was a special blessing to me, and I still cherish her memory.

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Mrs. Juanita Thompson (my godmother)

Breaking the Age Barrier

That was the year I started first grade. Yes, I started first grade at the age of four. That was another hurdle I had to jump. My brother was six years old, and he was going to start school. The first morning he was to be taken to school by a neighbor that lived across the street from us. She taught at the school my brother was going to attend. My brother had been my playmate, and no one told me he was going to school. He was dressed when the neighbor came to get him, but she was not going to take me. When I realized my brother was leaving me, I began to cry. I cried so loud that other neighbors came outdoors. When they realized why I was crying, one neighbor told my mother to send me along with my brother.

Now I was a happy camper. I would be going with my brother, Nat. His name was Nathaniel, and we called him Nat for short. When we got to school, I was taken to the office to get permission to take me to the first grade classroom. The principal asked me some questions such as my full name and address. When I was able to answer the questions without hesitation, the principal said to take me to the classroom, and if it was alright with the teacher, I could stay. The teacher’s name was Miss Jenkins. When she grilled me with questions, and I was able to answer them, she said I could stay. Now do not misunderstand me: I was not smart; both my brother and sister were the smart ones. That summer before we started school, my mother, having been a teacher herself, began to teach my brother some of the things he would be learning in first grade. Because I was always at my brother’s side, I picked up from what he was taught.

In the early years in all grades, we went to school all day. That first day, when we went home for lunch, I did not return to school. I stayed home and played the rest of the day. The second day of school I got up, was dressed and was taken to school along with my brother. However, as we entered Miss Jenkins’s room, she took me by the hand and led me back into the hall. She said to me—and I never forgot—that if I did not return from lunch I could not come back to school until I was six years old.

In my small mind, I had to make a choice: either I would stay all day and be with my brother, or if I did not return after lunch, I would not be with Nat all day until I was six years old. I made the choice to stay all day. That summer before we started school my mother had explained the importance of going to school and receiving an education. I learned a huge lesson: school was serious business! That one small amount of time Miss Jenkins took with me shaped my world. From that day on, I stayed away from school only when I could not go for a legitimate reason. Not like my little sister, the smart one.

When my sister, Joyce, was a little girl, she would manufacture any excuse to stay home and not go to school. She was the baby, the spoiled one. When she did not feel like going to school, she would tell my mother she was sick, and my mother would reply: Stay home, baby. When Joyce was in second grade and about to flunk out, one day she told my mother she was sick and did not want to go to school. My mother asked