Us and the Crisis City: Engagement with Community for Improved Democracy

Abstract

The integration of public schools in Little Rock disrupted our comfortable existence. We Smith children hadn’t felt the brunt of racism. Parental protectiveness prevented any scars. But the late 1950s and early ’60s were eye-openers. Education had always been segregated. That circumstance didn’t seem to affect anything. But others thought differently. The NAACP searched school records for students with B+ or better accumulative grade averages. Those students were called together to a meeting and the prospect of integrating Central High was discussed. My being included in that number was an honor of which my parents were proud. But, come September and the arrival there of newscasters and the pictures in the daily newspaper, brought a change in tone. Daddy got a phone call which in essence must have said, “If you are going to have your daughter help integrate Central High, you’ll have to find another job.” Crushed is a mild word for my disappointment at learning I was not to participate any further. I tried to disobey his mandate, but that was an exercise in futility. I was angry, disappointed, felt Daddy was being a chicken. After all, two parents were fired and their children still followed through with the agony of integration.