I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag
From The Pen Woman, Fall 2020
By Dorothy Atkins, Santa Clara County Branch
It’s so amazing that certain events in my life hold such memories and feelings even though much time has passed. One such event started me on my path of realization — that labels and words had such profound meanings.
I recall with great intensity how empowered I felt when I learned to recite the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag.* Barely 8 or 9 years old, I ran all the way home to tell my mom what I had learned and how every day I would forever stand with my hand over my heart and recite this pledge. To this day, I am still overcome.
Sadly, other events in my formative years, teens, and young adulthood — and as a mature woman — affected me with the same emotions. Not to ever let any of them define me, I set off on a course that gave me great strength. For every unforgettable moment, I became a stronger person. But etched in my soul are some events too shameful to forget.
You be the judge.
As a youngster, I was kept from entering the ice cream store with my white friends, only to be told that I would not be served. Being called racist names by adults was something my tender little mind could not understand.
I was refused entrance in the skating rink because it was not a “colored night.” Told by my teacher that I had no talent as an artist in high school. Had the police called when I rang a doorbell looking for an apartment to rent. When a receptionist threw my job application in the trash as I left the room after applying for a job. Followed by the security police in a high-end store as I was looking to buy a coat. And children called me racial slurs — as their parents stood by and watched.
You may wonder why these events still cause me sadness. Perhaps because they are just a few of the many that affected me at times when I was most vulnerable.
Growing up in California, I often heard my white friends talk about their ancestors who changed their names to fit in. Being a person of color, once called colored, Negro, African American, and Black, I had to navigate prejudice and racism because of the color of my skin. Not because of my character, my values, or my patriotism.
The world of racism saw my color first — and thus the hatred began. After all these years, I understand what my parents and prior generations felt as they sent their innocent children out into the world. As a young woman, I acted out when racism confronted me. It made me sad and angry all at once.
I have learned through the years that I held the key to my life’s journey. I would pursue things that enriched my life and fed my intellect. I married an amazing man; raised a wonderful, handsome, and intellectual son; and let the actions of others be their problem. For those who decided that I did not belong because of my differences, it was again their problem. They missed out on knowing a very interesting person, a person whose family fought and died for our country.
Those days of being denied an apartment, a job, a casual walk around a high-end store, and often, terrible remarks, was something I could not accept and did not accept. Thus my journey of quiet activism began. I fought for the rights of all people just because it was the right thing to do.
Fast-forward to the world we are living in now. For the last several years, racism and hate had begun to seep into the fabric of our being, becoming bolder and bolder. There was a time when hate was hidden and people went to great lengths to hide how they really felt. It was harder to protect yourself when it came at you from behind. I think it is better to know where it is than not.
As a mother, I can feel that total weight of wondering if my family will be safe as they go about the very mundane things, of just being of color in this world that their ancestors fought and died so hard for. All lives matter; no one has the right to decide which ones. Seeing the world respond to Black Lives Matter has strengthened my resolve and restored my faith in the concept that better angels are marching and kneeling around the globe.
I have met so many wonderful, accepting people who did not share awful, racial hatreds. To the bigoted people, I say, “When you see differences, pause because you are really seeing potentials and possibilities.”
And for me, I know that I came through this all because I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. Don’t know my name, or who I am — just call me a patriot.
*The Pledge of Allegiance was written in August 1892 by Francis Bellamy.