As the subject matter of this writing covers the experiences and, therefore, conclusions of an American born Black woman from the south in the 1960's through 2000's, the reader(s) should be braced for some very glaring, and no doubt, very disturbing facts covered in these experiences. One definitely should not be confounded by the author's conclusions. Being from the "Gateway to the South," better known as Kentucky, patriotic fervor as well as utter devotion to one's country is instilled in the marrow of our bones in that state. We who are African-American (as we are now known) have just as much loyalty to the land as any and all else. And just as it was then in the '60's through the '80's, so it still is in the '90's through the present, 2006, we still find those in power in our beloved land retaining the same unwillingness to welcome us into fully sharing in the democratic process, and enjoying the benefit of financial inclusion, as well.
The preface of this book of memoirs includes one of several incidences while I was still in my single-digit years of age, among which were my Caucasian elementary school teachers not being happy with my love of books, and my desire to write one of my own while still in the 2nd grade. Some improvement was experienced when I went to 6th grade with my large and friendly platinum-haired teacher, Mrs. Handy. There was a national writing contest held by the American Legion in 1968 on, "What The American Flag Means To Me." The prize to be awarded was $25. I won the contest. The amount I was given was $17 instead of the $25. I was told the reason was because, as Mrs. Handy was so impressed with it, she decided to type it and send it in, rather than in my own handwriting, in which, according to the American Legion officials, it was supposed to be. OK.
Then, I did a stint in the U.S. Army for a total of six years, having every intent of becoming a commissioned officer. Never being a "take 'No' for an answer-type, having been exposed to enough of how much I'd be welcome into the officer's ranks, I persevered through prayer and head-butting the doors until I became a 2nd Lieutenant in 1981 and became honorably discharged in 1984 at the rank of 1st Lieutenant.
As the atmosphere in the United States under Pres. Reagan was such that the companies still run by the same bunch of bigots who didn't want to have to hire any of us beyond $4 an hour to begin with, now they didn't have to. And they weren't. No matter how many college degrees, and technical institute diplomas and other credentials we had...they just weren't taking us on. Thus, when on the bus in Louisville in 1987, I heard all these wonderful stories about Atlanta, and how you could get a good job in just a couple of weeks...I packed up and went...cold and with no contacts. But I'd had it with Louisville's reticence that it STILL retains to this day for us as far as employment, inclusion in the business community, fairness in police tactics and handling, etc.
That was where I found employment for the next fourteen years of my life on one of Atlanta's police forces-the one with its rapid transit authority called, MARTA. And from Chapter One-on-this Black woman's work experience on the state-sanctioned, law enforcement and protective services of the citizenry at large is shared with the world.