“I was a freshman at Blount High School in Prichard when integration changed everything. Students from Blount were bused to Murphy High School in Mobile. Integration was bad for the Black and White students. I got to know a White cheerleader from one of my classes. She ran into the bathroom one day, asking me to save her. Save her? They would beat me for helping her. I didn’t want either of us getting licks, but being trapped in the restroom was no good, so I helped her get out.

I joined the Black Panthers when I was 16. Back then, I had a big afro like Angela Davis and marched on Davis Avenue the day Dr. King was assassinated. Our generation would not tolerate the racial problems. My mother was a maid; I didn’t like that she had to do that. I also hated being forced to walk in the back door of stores and sit on the back of the bus. God created me this color. Why did someone hate me for that? 

I graduated from Murphy High School in 1971. I left Mobile and the South on graduation night. My boyfriend had already moved to Los Angeles. He was going to send for me after my graduation, but I wasn’t waiting a day longer. I was 17 and didn’t tell my mother or anyone else that I was leaving. She and her friends surprised me with money for graduation. I used that to pay for my journey. I caught a ride to California with a friend of a friend. I didn’t know him and had no plans, but it didn’t matter. My husband-to-be was surprised to see me. We married and later had three sons. 

Mother was furious that I left. She never forgave me but still came out to California to see her grandchildren. She was with me when each one was born. I lived  there  for 50 years with no desire to return to Mobile. My sons don’t know much about the South.

Life was fulfilling in California. I worked with children for the school district and social services. The kids called me ‘Coachie.’ I also worked with disabled adults.

I returned to Mobile in 2018 because my brother was in a coma in the hospital. My sisters moved from Mobile after I left. They voted that I would be the one to come back and care for our brother, and I did it. He passed away last year. 

I still don’t know what I think about being back in Alabama. I see changes in voting and can go anywhere I please these days. Having freedom in Mobile is what I worked for as a teenager—it’s the completion of one of my circles. But a big piece of my life is still missing. My mother never told me who my father was. She took that secret to her grave. It is hard to come to peace with that. 

I learned that I can’t make my neighbor love me. Love comes from the heart, and only God can change that. I am 71 and still a work in progress.  My fighting spirit hasn’t left, I am just older and a little more subtle now.”

Christine

(below photo is Christine at 50)