Change: Red Caps are White by Janet Powell, FPN Associate Writer; Janet Warm Wind Powell@facebook
"FINAL CALL, train 1082, route to New York and Boston", I'd heard from the loudspeaker 20 minutes before I heard,"ALL ABOARD", track 3, stairway 3, route to Wilmington, Baltimore, New Carrollton, Washington and Virginia".
The station, 30th street, Philadelphia is bustling on this Thanksgiving Day weekend. It's Saturday, crisp and bright outside. Inside, shadowed with lines of travelers at the ticket counter and quiet conversations. A "Black" woman asking me for a dollar after a dissertation about being short fare to get on the regional train to somewhere. Upon my "No!" response, she sucked her teeth and dismissed me with 'Bitch", audibly spoken as she walked to her next prospect. Waiting are those too old to meet the challenges of online ticket purchase and those who are young enough but racing for time to maneuver all of their young obstacles.
Late for the 11:30 AM departure, I lined up with a myriad of folks being served by two agents probably working vacation time. My direct line of vision, upon entering the line space was a young white woman holding a 4 month old to her breast. It's a rather cold day for such public exposure. As she held her son, she spoke a language to a foreign speaking Black male. She interpreted, signed a voucher, maneuvered her wallet back into her larger bag, all the while speaking and holding her child. I was impressed. A young White female recruit in uniform was behind me. Too young for service or war.
Finally, sitting after purchasing hoagies from a Philly hoagie vendor for my Maryland relatives I reflected. I'd just purchased Philly hoagies from two men of East Indian dissent. I was raised in the neighborhood that housed the original Pats Cheesteaks. "They can't possibly make a good hoagie', was my first thought but, the ingredients were authentic. I watched. "So why not?" I complain about grits prepared by Asian restaurateurs. Not because they're Asian but because they don't prepare them to my liking.
Two days ago, there was the execution of terror in Bumbai, India. I watched the news accounts as most did.. This country, so far away. Languages intertwined, spoken quickly, fearfully exhibiting the first stages of grief. Two days later, the reality has not set in for those outside. We in Philadelphia, as close as we are to New York, couldn't touch or feel 9/11 as those who lived it. Don't misunderstand, there are those among us who feel everyone's pain. Some other's must emotionally or intellectually process circumstances. Others only care about their own survival. As long as they are not directly hit, there is no hit.
The train ride is going well. A train is my memory of day's quite unlike today, Today on the train is ethnic diversity and it's cool. As I travel south, I'm reminded of the slow ride, every pit stop and fear.
We, a middle class family with southern roots. We, an educated bunch of professional Black folks, working hard, owning business's, teaching and gathering, each Thanksgiving for the connection that only family has. We, proud of each others accomplishments. In the family, these accomplishments are expected. Outside the circle however, we were maligned, segregated against and disgraced by virtue of a color line.
I remember the train station then. I see vividly, the separate water fountains and bathrooms and train cars. I experienced standing on the side of the street in Danville, VA. that was for colored people only. At the Thanksgiving Day parade, as Santa's carriage rolled down the street, Santa looked and waved to the 'other' side.
The history is written by colonists. Movies of the day showed us "Darkies" as immigrants from somewhere in Tarzan land. "Darkies" dwelled and worked and lived on American soil long before we were told we were immigrants. Those were the politics to benefit those seeking free land and economic resources.
On this train as I remember those horrific days, I think about those who killed and maimed in Bumbai, India.That the hatred was so severe for those who were declared wealthy.
Here in the US, riots occurred in Philadelphia, Los Angeles and Chicago. The wrath of the disenfranchised in the '60's, exploded in cities across this country. It was the buildings that housed the rioters that were destroyed. It was the communities of those who set the fires that were leveled. There is still sadly, the inerrant need to turn on those close to living the problems not the creators of the problems.
Among Americans, the fight for empowerment becomes clouded with parallel shame. We must begin the process to govern for balance. We must recognize that inner city communities, Native American reservations and the expanding prison industrial complex may turn emotions and anger outside. That if we don't recognize soon that we, here in America, no matter what we are or where we are have value for the strength of the collective.
As we witness the dawn of a new day as a train rides out of Philadelphia towards a House built for Whites only, my dream too is to see a new Washington, surrounding a House that will symbolize liberty and justice for all.
Janet Powell
215-868-9221
"FINAL CALL, train 1082, route to New York and Boston", I'd heard from the loudspeaker 20 minutes before I heard,"ALL ABOARD", track 3, stairway 3, route to Wilmington, Baltimore, New Carrollton, Washington and Virginia".
The station, 30th street, Philadelphia is bustling on this Thanksgiving Day weekend. It's Saturday, crisp and bright outside. Inside, shadowed with lines of travelers at the ticket counter and quiet conversations. A "Black" woman asking me for a dollar after a dissertation about being short fare to get on the regional train to somewhere. Upon my "No!" response, she sucked her teeth and dismissed me with 'Bitch", audibly spoken as she walked to her next prospect. Waiting are those too old to meet the challenges of online ticket purchase and those who are young enough but racing for time to maneuver all of their young obstacles.
Late for the 11:30 AM departure, I lined up with a myriad of folks being served by two agents probably working vacation time. My direct line of vision, upon entering the line space was a young white woman holding a 4 month old to her breast. It's a rather cold day for such public exposure. As she held her son, she spoke a language to a foreign speaking Black male. She interpreted, signed a voucher, maneuvered her wallet back into her larger bag, all the while speaking and holding her child. I was impressed. A young White female recruit in uniform was behind me. Too young for service or war.
Finally, sitting after purchasing hoagies from a Philly hoagie vendor for my Maryland relatives I reflected. I'd just purchased Philly hoagies from two men of East Indian dissent. I was raised in the neighborhood that housed the original Pats Cheesteaks. "They can't possibly make a good hoagie', was my first thought but, the ingredients were authentic. I watched. "So why not?" I complain about grits prepared by Asian restaurateurs. Not because they're Asian but because they don't prepare them to my liking.
Two days ago, there was the execution of terror in Bumbai, India. I watched the news accounts as most did.. This country, so far away. Languages intertwined, spoken quickly, fearfully exhibiting the first stages of grief. Two days later, the reality has not set in for those outside. We in Philadelphia, as close as we are to New York, couldn't touch or feel 9/11 as those who lived it. Don't misunderstand, there are those among us who feel everyone's pain. Some other's must emotionally or intellectually process circumstances. Others only care about their own survival. As long as they are not directly hit, there is no hit.
The train ride is going well. A train is my memory of day's quite unlike today, Today on the train is ethnic diversity and it's cool. As I travel south, I'm reminded of the slow ride, every pit stop and fear.
We, a middle class family with southern roots. We, an educated bunch of professional Black folks, working hard, owning business's, teaching and gathering, each Thanksgiving for the connection that only family has. We, proud of each others accomplishments. In the family, these accomplishments are expected. Outside the circle however, we were maligned, segregated against and disgraced by virtue of a color line.
I remember the train station then. I see vividly, the separate water fountains and bathrooms and train cars. I experienced standing on the side of the street in Danville, VA. that was for colored people only. At the Thanksgiving Day parade, as Santa's carriage rolled down the street, Santa looked and waved to the 'other' side.
The history is written by colonists. Movies of the day showed us "Darkies" as immigrants from somewhere in Tarzan land. "Darkies" dwelled and worked and lived on American soil long before we were told we were immigrants. Those were the politics to benefit those seeking free land and economic resources.
On this train as I remember those horrific days, I think about those who killed and maimed in Bumbai, India.That the hatred was so severe for those who were declared wealthy.
Here in the US, riots occurred in Philadelphia, Los Angeles and Chicago. The wrath of the disenfranchised in the '60's, exploded in cities across this country. It was the buildings that housed the rioters that were destroyed. It was the communities of those who set the fires that were leveled. There is still sadly, the inerrant need to turn on those close to living the problems not the creators of the problems.
Among Americans, the fight for empowerment becomes clouded with parallel shame. We must begin the process to govern for balance. We must recognize that inner city communities, Native American reservations and the expanding prison industrial complex may turn emotions and anger outside. That if we don't recognize soon that we, here in America, no matter what we are or where we are have value for the strength of the collective.
As we witness the dawn of a new day as a train rides out of Philadelphia towards a House built for Whites only, my dream too is to see a new Washington, surrounding a House that will symbolize liberty and justice for all.
Janet Powell
215-868-9221
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