All men are created equal.
– Thomas Jefferson
I was born six years after the civil rights movement started when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, AL. Martin Luther King, Jr. died when I was in the second grade. I grew up hearing the various terms used to describe the different races. My use of one such word got me into trouble when I used it to describe a kid who kept punching me for no reason when I was in junior high school. After one such punch, I confronted him and ended up in the principal’s office. Joe claimed he had no clue as to why I slammed him against a wall. When it was my turn to explain my actions, the second word I used ended the discussion and I was suspended for three days. When my dad heard about what happened, he left work to meet with the principal. For he knew if I was in a fight there must have been a good reason. The next day I was back in school, albeit with a little more respect.
I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area where new ideas and changes to the social norm took root and became acceptable long before the rest of our society followed. Some were good and others not so good.
If I was to pick a point in my life when I decided my race was human, it would have to be when I became a Christian and accepted the Biblical account for our existence. I now claim “human” as my race because we all descended from our first parents, Adam and Eve. The Bible does not say what race they were, just that man was made in the image of God. The only two places in my life where race is important is at blood drives and when I registered to be a bone marrow donor. And that is only due to genetic variations. I was contacted once as a possible bone marrow match but after further testing it was determined I was not close enough. But I was told the additional tests will increase my chances of being called in the future.