When I was 19 years old I left the religion of my family and began to study the Bible with Jehovah's Witnesses. I wanted to know what God expected of us. What was His plan for humans? Is this life all there is? Was He disappointed in us? What happens to us when we died? Why are people so divided by religion? Why does racism exist? Can the Bible teach us to love one another?

As I learned I wanted to serve this God. I attended the Breevoort Congregation in Brooklyn, NY. There were only two White people that attended the congregation and they lived at the Bethel Home - the building that for many years had the writing above it that said, READ THE BIBLE DAILY. One of them looked out for my cousins, coming over on Friday evenings to watch movies with them, talk to them and encourage them. His name was Ron. My cousins dodged him most Fridays and Ron would spend the time with me and my aunt. One evening time got away from us and it was dark when he left the apartment. I thought about riding back to Bethel with him, to protect him. He said he would be okay, but he was beaten at the train station. He was sent to another area in Brooklyn.

When I went to live in New Mexico I contacted the Witnesses there to continue my studies. A White sister came by to talk with me. She was not old enough to be my mother, but was not my age either. I was lonely out there and she was a great person to hang out with. We would go to the zoo, museum, up in the mountains and shopping in El Paso.

One day she took me to her favorite diner. As soon as I saw the building, I got a funny feeling. When we stepped inside I knew they didn't want me there. Everyone stopped eating and looked towards the door at us. She didn't notice, though. "Hi, Sonny!" she said, smiling as we took a seat at the counter. "Can we go someplace else?" I asked her quietly. "Why? I know the place don't look like much, but the food is good! Isn't it Sonny?" she said to him, laughing alone. He was now beet red in the face, his lips pressed together tightly. But she didn't notice. 'Let me get two pancakes and a smoked sausage. Give me a cup of coffee," she said. She turned to me, "What are you going to have?" I wanted to go! "I'll just have some tea," I said. Even though I was sitting at the counter where I could see him cooking, there was no way I was going to eat anything he prepared. He gave her a cup of coffee and prepared her pancakes. Noticing that I didn't have my tea she reminded him. He got a Styrofoam cup and poured hot water in it and set it down in front of me. As he set it down the cup either melted and the top part of it broke, or it broke from the force of him setting it down. The hot water spread across the counter. I quickly stood to prevent it from scalding me. I again turned to her, "I want to go!" I said softly, but with much feeling. "Get her a regular cup, Sonny" she said. He put a nasty towel down on the counter to catch the water and left it there for me to wipe up. "Can we please go? These people do not want me here!" I said. But she didn't notice. "Sonny, clean this mess up, please," she said. He came back and wiped it up and took the dirty towel away. I glanced at the people sitting at the tables. They had all stopped eating and were watching this show. "Can we please go?" I said again, this time loud enough for Sonny to hear. He set another cup of hot water down, this time in a real cup, but with a plastic spoon. When I lifted the spoon from the water, it had melted. "I will wait for you in the car. Give me the keys!" I said to her. "Sonny?" she said to him. "You know better than that!" Sonny replied. She came with me, throwing  $5 on the counter.

She tried to explain what had happened. She was trying to find the logic in that situation. She had been going to this diner since she was a little girl. She had to admit that she had never seen any Black people in there before, but she didn't know it was because we were not welcome. As I sat there in the car with her, watching her cry and try to find a way to understand what just happened, she found it easier to believe that there had to be some other reason for his behavior. She could not grasp that it was because my skin is not White. I stopped studying the Bible with her after that event. It wasn't because I was mad with God because He was not responsible for this. It was because I had lived for a time in NC. I had marched in demonstrations fighting for my civil rights as a child. I had been tear gassed. I had been arrested. I had been called Nigger. I had been humiliated by White people. I stopped because I wanted to worship a God whose members didn't care what color a person was. And this woman, who no doubt loved God, had her head in the sand when it came to racism. To me, it was easier for her to rationalize what happened as Sonny having a bad day, as opposed to the truth, which was he was a racist. 

A couple of years later, after the fired for knowledge continued to burn in me, I contacted the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses.  I said to the brother that answered the phone, "I want to study the Bible with a White person. I want this person to be old, in their fifties or older (I was only 23 or 24 - so 50s was old). I want her to have raised sons that went to Bethel (a major sacrifice for God - comparable to Timothy going to serve God). I want her to love all people regardless of their skin color. I wanted someone that truly loved her brothers and sisters. The day she was due to arrive we had a Texas hail storm the size of eggs fell from the sky. I knew she wasn't going to come out in this weather. Dottie knocked on my door, her umbrella was destroyed by the hail, and her face was bruised. She stepped in, smiling warmly and kissed and hugged me tenderly. We became the best of friends, but it was hard for me at first. I kept looking for a sign that she was not what she appeared to be. My thinking was this; if a person really allowed what the Bible teaches to reach their heart there is no way they would ever think they were superior to anyone.

She had been in the Truth for over 30 years. She had raised two grown men that had both gone to Bethel and served. One had been there for four years and the other twelve.  Her husband was so opposed to it and how she was raising their sons, that he had beaten her when she was younger. He had broken her ankle so many times it had been replaced and her heel sunk down when she stepped, making it look like an accordion. I told her my story of growing up in the south. She showed me from the Bible how God feels about injustices. Since Sunday school I knew the Lord’s Prayer, but never knew what I was really praying for. Now I knew. I dedicated my life to God on February 24, 1984 by getting baptised. When I returned from the Convention in Dallas, Dottie and I got together. “I have never been able to have any of the Witnesses to my home for a meal because of my husband. You have nothing to stop you. Show hospitality to your brothers and sisters. For your baby, have someone to your home every week. It can be for a meal, or dessert. I will bake bread to give you on Sundays until you tell me to stop. Do it for me, please,” she said. I know that the power of the Bible.

Hebrews 4:12 says, “For the word of God is alive and exerts power and is sharper than any two-edged sword and pierces even to the dividing of soul and spirit, and of joints from the marrow, and is able to discern thoughts and intentions of the heart.”