When I was ten years old, we made a trip from Marion, Virginia, to Florida that greatly contributed to my empowerment as a colored girl.
Because my mother suffered from a congenital heart defect, we were returning to her hometown.
Unlike our mixed neighborhood in Virginia, moving to Punta Gorda meant living in a predominately colored community.
Now, even though they paid taxes, Jim Crow rules determined that the colored should not have the luxury of paved streets, sidewalks, and street lights like the predominately white neighborhoods. It was the lack of those services that marked ours as colored. Our homes indicated a mixture of financial resources; from elaborate two story houses like where my grandfather grew up, to moderate cottages and shot-gun houses.
“Community” in my colored culture was not just a physical location. It was a consciousness of “we” vs “I”; of “collectivism”. There was a sense of interdependence. Sharing and cooperating were essential aspects of “community.” As a child, I knew of no hunger or homelessness in my community. Fishing was plentiful. Residents planted gardens and shared their bounty. Citrus fruits and guavas were plentiful to share.
In our segregated, all-colored community, we experienced and expressed tremendous joy; from Saturday afternoon baseball games, to fish fry’s, church plays and gospel singing on Sunday.
When we passed through the colored business district, there was a sense of vitality. The smiles, the waves and hellos. “Welcome home” felt like being wrapped in loving arms.
In our traditional, colored culture, children were raised by the community. We were the hope and the future. Adults in the community were responsible for the development of our character. Any adult had the authority and duty to reprimand for inappropriate behavior. There was no talking back or sassing. This “parenting” relationship helped us gain an understanding of what was acceptable in the community.
In my Punta Gorda community, I grew up in a loving, caring, and nurturing village. And I was expected to use my gifts and talents to “give back” to the community and to uplift my colored brothers and sisters.
"In my life, I have found myself as a colored, a negro, a Black, an African American, and a person of color. This is my reflection as a colored girl." This phrase opens each essay in the series “Reflections of a Colored Girl” from Martha R. Bireda, Ph.D. being aired on WGCU FM. Dr. Bireda is a writer, lecturer, and living history performer with over 30 years' experience as a lecturer, consultant and trainer for issues related to race, class, and gender, working with educators, law enforcement, and business, and civic leaders. She also is director of the Blanchard House Museum of African American History and Culture of Charlotte County, in Punta Gorda, Florida. Bireda was born in Southwest Florida in 1945 but spent the first 10 years of her life in a small town in Western Virginia. Her family then moved back to Punta Gorda, where they have deep roots. This is one essay in her series.
