My father, Alonzo Clifton Russell, is my hero. He quietly resisted the Jim Crow requirement of accepting a subservient consciousness.
Daddy did not talk about race. He got along well and had genuine relationships with both coloreds and whites. The only time I ever saw his reaction to a racial issue was when he quit a job because of unequal pay.
For many years, Daddy delivered bricks for a brick factory in Marion, Virginia. For coloreds this was a good job. It provided a decent blue-collar salary. He and another driver, Ferguson who was white, were good friends. They often shared beer and conversation.
One weekend evening while talking over beer, Ferguson revealed how much he was paid. They had the same job title yet Ferguson made twice as much as Daddy. Daddy was livid, not at Ferguson, but at the idea of being paid less.
On Monday, he walked in the office, asked for equal pay, was denied, and calmly walked to his car and came home. Despite the uncertainly of the situation, mother supported my father in his decision. And I, only a youngster, thought he was a hero for being so brave.
My father was a good worker and found a new job almost immediately. He worked as a bartender and chauffer for years. In the 1960s, he was hired as a driver at the Blue Ridge Job Corps for Girls in Marion. Over the years, Daddy received many employee recognition awards.
It was his passion for baseball and a talent for coaching the girls’ softball team, and often being a surrogate father, that led to his greatest achievement as a colored man. Even today girls he counseled praise him for his assistance during their years of transition.
A year after Daddy’s death the activity building at the Blue Ridge Job Corps was named the “Russell Hall” in his honor.
Daddy had resisted following the prescribed colored subservient role for him. Instead, by leaving that truck driver job in his quiet manner, he displayed his authentic identity as a man who honored his self-worth.
I learned the power of knowing and respecting my self-worth as a colored girl from my father.
"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.
