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After Brown: A Personal Story

By Lorinda Bullock
Black College Wire

Lorinda Bullock at her Howard University graduation.

From early on, I was fortunate to grow up in the pretty diverse town of Bellport, Long Island, N.Y.

I had friends of all backgrounds: black, white, Puerto Rican, Panamanian, Chinese, Indian, Filipino, Colombian, Italian, Irish�sometimes all mixed up and in between. At my Sweet 16 party, my father joked that it looked like the United Nations in there.

At our school, we learned together whether we were children of professionals, blue-collar workers or welfare recipients. It was King�s dream alive and in action; Brown v. Board at its very best. Or was it? It�s amazing to think that just a generation before, my mother integrated Biloxi High School in Mississippi. So shouldn�t I be grateful for that fateful decision handed down 50 years ago? Well, yes, I should. But when I look around at the disparities in education all over the country and in certain communities, hell, even in one community, in my hometown, we haven�t come as far as we should have in the last 50 years.

My old school district boasts on its Web site about the diverse ethnic and economic backgrounds in our community. But I know from personal experience that real diversity begins when there are more than one or two black students in advanced placement courses, in the honor society, or on the honor roll.

It was frustrating to be the representative of all black people and to be the antithesis of the stereotype of the finger-snapping, neck-rolling black girl bound for teen pregnancy or crime. Every day was a battle. I was constantly trying to prove to my white teachers and white friends that I deserved my A grades and that all black people were not the negative stereotypes that, unfortunately, some of my peers were perpetuating. It was tiring! I can�t count the times I tried to persuade my black friends to take more challenging classes, but they already felt defeated because of bad experiences with certain teachers who made them feel as if they weren�t smart enough.

Even some teachers believed that black students just didn�t care, so they didn�t care enough to fight harder to reach them. A large number of black students from my school who graduated before and after I did said that the suggestions from guidance counselors were limited to the military, vocational schools and community college �- not four-year institutions; not large, well-respected colleges. Black students were being cut off at the pass. I have friends preparing to graduate from large four-year schools, and they are bitter because some teachers and counselors told them they couldn�t do it. Even after beating the odds, and preparing for excellent careers, they still carry these feelings!

These actions toward black students started long ago. My father, who went to my school in the �60s, said that no one told him about the SATs or that he should take them. How do you neglect to tell someone that he should take the SATs? When black students or students of any race are automatically told that they don�t need to bother applying to certain colleges and universities, or when they aren�t encouraged to enroll in more challenging classes in 2004, equal opportunities are not being presented to all of America�s children. And when that happens, it doesn�t mean anything if your school looks like an Olympic event after party.

Lorinda Bullock is a 2004 graduate of Howard University. Her story was part of a �Shades of Brown� project involving three classes in the Howard University Department of Journalism.

Posted May 24, 2004