“Most mothers are instinctive philosophers.” Harriet Beecher Stowe
I love this quote because it defines mothers as more than just care providers. They are the very first leaders, teachers, coaches, and strategists their children will meet. At least that’s how I saw my mother, Phyllis Redd King. I tell everyone that she is the smartest person I know. She was able to guide and navigate her family through the trials and tribulations of inner-city life as the single parent of three boys. I often wonder how she managed the three of us only separated by three years. Lord knows we were handfuls, but there was strength in that small frame. No matter how big we got, she was still the queen, and you don’t mess with Queen Bee.
It was in 1974 in Boston, Massachusetts when Judge W. Arthur Garrity ordered that Boston schools be desegregated by busing. I was only 10 years old then, but I remember how most families were against it. I remember seeing Mayor Kevin White on television speaking with the families in South Boston and how angry they were that their kids were being bussed from their community schools that saw generations of their families graduate from. I remember my mother saying we were not going to school in South Boston even if she had to teach us by herself. The letters went out in 1976 with your school assignments, and we were headed to South Boston.
There was a Program called METCO (The Metropolitan Council for Educational Opportunity) which was started in 1966, and the goal offer inner-city children the opportunity to go to schools outside of Boston, to expand educational opportunities and, reduce racial isolation. METCO was the first voluntary desegregation program in the county. The difference between Judge Garrity’s order and METCO is the both the families and the school district agree to participate. My mother was able to get us into METCO, and it was probably the most impactful decision that she made for us because what we saw every day on the news showed how forced bus divided Boston by race and culture that has taken decades to overcome.
We were assigned to the Scituate School District which was an hour ride from Boston. I was going into sixth grade, my brother Ken was going into fifth grade, and Tracy was going into third grade. We had to be up every morning at 5 am, which is why the three of us are early morning people. It was an adjustment and challenge that first year, but nothing like what our friends experienced and what many students experienced on the bus to South Boston.
We would watch the news with our mother, and we would see the signs parents were holding up as the buses rolled into South Boston with a police escort. There were protests and fights breaking out in the city. It was Black against White, and the children were at the center of this mayhem. As we watched, my mother would say this is why I put you three in METCO.
Imagine being a young child and seeing this hate. These kids would grow to be adults carrying that same hate. I remember there were train and bus stops you knew not to get off. I remember getting off at the wrong stop and I was chased by a group of White kids asking what I was doing in their neighborhood. I have never run so fast or so far in my life. Boston just wasn’t the same.
Those pictures remain in the photo albums of my mind. It was our mother who reminded us that there are good people in the world and that if we treat people the way we want to be treated, we will be alright. Our mother was our anchor through the turbulent seas.
Next week, Part 3 of the Scituate Years.
Charles Redd
Dignity Freedom Fighter.
Dignity Freedom Fighter 