My maternal grandparents, Alonzo and Louise Walton featured in a New Jersey newspaper after graduating High School in their 60s.
When my maternal grandparents were in their 60s, they decided to go back to school to get their GEDs. Alonzo Walton and Louise Coleman Walton both grew up on farms around the turn of the century. The Waltons owned theirs, and the Colemans were sharecroppers. Like a lot of farming/sharecropping children, their hands were needed to work the land more than to do math equations in school. Alonzo in Pine Bluff, Arkansas and Louise in Clinton, Oklahoma both quit school around sixth or seventh grade to help their families survive.
But their thirst for learning didn’t end there. So, when my grandfather retired from the Air Force after about 40 years of service and all of their grandchildren but me were attending college, they enrolled in PembertonTownship’s Adult Evening High School Program in New Jersey. It took them two tries to pass the final exam. But pass they did and in 1980 they received their GEDs.
The above photo is from a story in Pemberton’s “Time Advertiser” newspaper featuring the Waltons, the only grandparents enrolled at Burlington County College. After the article came out, the newspaper sent my grandparents the black and white photo they used and my grandparents framed it and hung it on the wall. I’d stare at that photo and read the article tacked under it every time I went to their house. It was a constant reminder that the education I was receiving as a right, my grandparents treasured as a privilege. The value of education is probably the biggest lesson I learned from my grandparents without them ever having to say a word.
My grandfather, Martin Luther Ford, referred to as "mulatto" in some census documents.
In the 2010 Census, people will be able to classify themselves as Negro. The U.S. Census Bureau has added “Negro” to its forms again because some people prefer to be called by the term an official said.
I’d love to meet the people who refer to themselves as Negro. Seriously. I’m always interested in people’s personal philosophies when it comes to identity. Why someone would want to call themselves something that conjures up the Jim Crow south is particularly intriguing.
My grandmother referred to herself and other black people as colored well into the 1980s, but she’s 93. That’s what blacks were called in the early 1900s in Oklahoma where she grew up. Her father, my great grandfather, Bud Anderson had a penchant for calling everybody the n word, but only if he liked you. He also liked to carry around a shotgun, so I’m sure people just swallowed his generous use of the n word whether they found it offensive or not. My great grandmother, Josephine Burton Ford and my grandfather, Martin Ford were classified as mulattoes in a 1910 census. I wonder if that’s how my great grandmother saw herself, as a mulatto. I know that’s not how my grandfather saw himself. When I asked him if he was white, he made it clear he considered himself a black man. But I’m grateful that the census made this distinction however distasteful the word mulatto may be. “Mulatto” helped me find them in census reports and their ancestors in archives.
I like to call myself black even though some might consider African American the politically correct term. I’ve tried to use African American for myself, but it never feels right. The term didn’t come into popularity until I was in my late teens and I was used to and liked the term black by then. Besides, Africa is a big continent encompassing a plethora of cultures. Would an American whose parents were born in Egypt call herself African American, or one with parents born in India consider himself Asian American? I’d like to know. How do you identify yourself?