Race Relations

By age 9, I could hand press my father’s white-cotton dress shirts and handkerchiefs with surgical precision. Each day, my youth ironing board stood alongside Hattie’s as we spray-starched loads of clean laundry while watching Hattie’s “stories,” never missing her favorite, General Hospital. I loved that television to Hattie was an interactive sport. When a commercial spokesperson would greet viewers with, “Hi. I’m John Doe,” Hattie would reply, “and I’m Hattie F, nice to meet you.” There was much I didn’t know about Hattie’s life outside my own. Yet, there were three fundamental truths all five Broun children knew for certain – Hattie loved Jesus, John F. Kennedy, and us.

Hattie was family, and her teachings are indelibly imprinted in my soul. Hattie showed me that familial love transcends bloodlines, race, religion, and social barriers. I have a file in my home-office cabinet full of personal letters, clippings, and random mementos, some of which are faded letters from Hattie written to me while off at college.

Houston, Texas – April 18th, 1977

…So you be sweet and hurry home. Be sure to study hard and make some good grades, as that is very important.

Love you very much.

Your Black Mother,

Hattie

Houston, Texas – June 15th, 1977

…Sorry you have to study so hard but in the end you will appreciate it and one day you will benefit by it all. So you be sweet and take care of your self.

Your Black Mama,

Hattie

Hattie always referenced herself as our black mother, and since she was single and childless, we embraced that role. Truth, Hattie was a greater presence in our home and in our lives during school days than either parent; Dad’s week days were spent at the office and Mom’s chauffeuring carpools in a woody station wagon when not volunteering in our schools, with the Junior League, or leading a Camp Fire Girl troop.

Hattie was our black mother, and although we were not blind to color, it simply didn’t matter. There was no emotional, psychological barrier – and certainly no greater difference in Hattie having black skin than my older brother, Ted, being the only boy or sibling with blue eyes and blond hair. Had only this seamless acceptance proved a microcosm for society at large during those days! Instead, while I was ironing beside Hattie, our schools were segregating students according to color; Martin Luther King was being arrested in Selma, Alabama during a civil-rights protest; and in the South Central Los Angeles community of Watts, a six-day full scale riot was erupting after a white police officer confronted a black male driver for driving erratically. Yet in the midst of social chaos and injustice, a black housekeeper was teaching a typical American WASP family how to love unconditionally.