I remember

I remember noisily walking down the wooden steps and locating the nearest bathroom. I was mesmerized by what was happening on the football field, ignoring that I passed in front of the fence separating the ‘White’ section from the ‘Colored’ section in one end zone of the Ole Miss football stadium. I’m sure I wouldn’t have noticed even if I wasn’t hypnotized by my first college football game. I don’t remember the year but I couldn’t have been more than eight years old. In some ways, we were separated – segregated if you will – from the racial battles consuming the South. Baseball, football and basketball took up the minutes of a typical day and I didn’t choose my sports’ heroes by their skin color.

 I remember, at that moment the only thing that concerned me was soaking in every moment of a special day. I remember being surrounded by more people than I could ever imagine. The joy of the fans was intoxicating. The anger, when things went wrong, was terrifying. I don’t remember how long I lingered in the walkway but eventually I made my way to the end of the stands and moved toward the bathroom before feeling a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see my father, breathing quickly after sprinting down the stands from our seat. I don’t remember his exact words but do remember he told me I wasn’t allowed to go into that particular bathroom because of my skin color. I remember the reluctance in his tone, largely because separating races went against my father’s beliefs, but we still headed toward the opposite end of the stands.

I remember asking questions of confusion. I remember he offered few answers. I remember him buying me popcorn in hopes that would divert my attention from what happened. I remember the sudden roar of the crowd and being swallowed back into what was happening on the field.