It was 1985, my Junior year at South High. Every
time I walked on the school campus my skin crawled a little. Everyone said it
was fine. “Rebel Pride!” was something we all were supposed to embrace. At the time,
the student body to me seemed to be 40% white, 35% black and 25% other. I am
not sure of the exact statistic.
I would hear my white friends complain about
how we couldn’t fly the General Lee/Confederate Flag anymore at football games.
Political Correctness was robbing us of our heritage. I was at a total loss of
what that meant. The North won the war. The South lost, why would anyone want
to fly a flag as if something was a victory. I felt embarrassed for my black
friends wondering if they were hearing any of it. Wondering why more fights on
campus didn’t happen.
The mascots of our school were Jody and Johnny
Rebel. Yup… That’s right. Jody wore the complete baby blue taffeta ballgown
WITH, hoops. Johnny bedecked in the Rebel blue and a hat on top. Each football
game I would wonder why no one was saying anything. How this could be ok with
everyone! How it was possible Everyone embraced
Rebel Pride.
I went along. I wanted to fit in. However, I
didn’t grow up here. My early childhood years I listened to stories about my
parents marching in Civil Rights marches. How my Mom related to discrimination
because of the religious bias she encountered in her state. She was not LDS
(Mormon) and in the 1950 thru 1960s that was a huge issue. No dates. Exclusions
from social gatherings or babysitting jobs. Her empathetic stories would go on
and on. I was raised to never exclude people because of their differences. I
was raised to be Colorblind. If I didn’t see color, if I only saw people, there
would be no racism.
Poof… it would be gone.
No need for Affirmative Action. No need for Wage
Equality. No need to change history. If we would treat people like people and
not a color or a disability, the Parentals told me, the problem would be
solved.
I believed them right up until the end of my
Junior year.
People told me I was moderately popular in high school.
I heard a rumor that I was liked. It would be my Senior year so why not?
Why not run in an election to be part of the
school mascot team. I was told I would be a cute Jody Rebel.
So I ran. I made posters. I campaigned. I didn’t
go out for cheer leading because it was a potential scheduling conflict. As did
a few other girls. One of the girls was black, Georgia. The other girl had the
same name as mine, Becky.
It came down to a runoff.
Becky
Becky H. (Me)
Georgia.
The morning after the final vote I was so
excited. I couldn’t wait to get to school and see who won. When I arrived, I
saw the announcement, Georgia won. I was happy for her. Naturally a little
disappointed, but Georgia was a huge soul. Everyone loved her. She would make a
fantastic Jody Rebel. She definitely would be better at it than me.
I moved on with my day.
As the classes transitioned, I began to hear a
murmur. Towards the end of the day it finally was reported to me through some
acquaintances. They agreed with the rumor. They were mad at me too. What I had
done was completely unjust. It was offensive. I should have known better.
I should have known that Becky C. was more
popular than me.
I should have done the honorable thing and
dropped out of the race.
I confused everyone because the underclassmen
couldn’t tell the difference between us.
I had split the vote and allowed a black girl to
win Jody Rebel.
Didn’t I know? Jody Rebel was supposed to be
WHITE? I completely ruined our classes Senior year. How selfish I was.
Blablabla.
Suddenly, I was no longer colorblind. I now
understand what looked at me that day in the face was systemic racism. Many
friendships silently ended for me that day. I was ok that they were mad at me.
I was ok that their opinion was I somehow was an awful person for a day.
I felt proud. I, unknowingly, did my part. Yes!
this school was racist. Yes! our mascot was racist. The whole premise of our
high school celebrated oppression. Somehow, unwittingly I defied it. I made
room for a change. I never apologized for staying in the race. I still don’t. I
wanted to be Jody Rebel. Georgia won fair and square in that runoff.
More importantly,
It was time we had Georgia as our Jody Rebel.
