My Racist Grandmother…

How her Hatred and Racism Affected me

Yesterday, I felt my dead racist Grandmother was summoning me to visit her grave.

One of those gut following kind of things. I had never visited her grave all these years she’s been dead. She is buried not far from my house in a grave next to my Uncle.

When I was a kid she would tell me things like I was not allowed to swim with black people because it was “like bathing with them”. She viewed black Americans as animals.

She was horrible to everyone in general.

Her racism, along with other family members, is most likely the reason I have always been drawn to non-white cultures and ethnicities.

My Grandmother was physically beautiful. Classic 1950s movie star look with perfectly curled hair from rollers. Skin always shiny. Obsessed with her weight. She had a great sense of fashion. In fact, she owned a popular dress shop back in the day.

There was little beauty on the inside. Masculine and tough to the core.

During my 20 min drive I kept wondering why she wanted to be buried in this particular cemetery. And here it was. My answer.

She wanted to be buried with her hatred

She had so much hatred in her racist heart.

When she died years ago, she almost died alone with no family until I decided, with help of my friend, to be there with her. She died within minutes of me arriving.

Visiting her cemetery and seeing this marker caused many emotions to come flooding back. Emotions buried so deeply of her abuse to myself and others.

I am grateful I followed my gut. Why? Because I released all that buried anger, hurt, and confusion. I have been storing and repressing those emotions deep in my body and soul.

Now I can move on. Now I can help myself and others heal.

I am so happy to have so many beautiful people in my life with huge hearts.

It’s a reflection of you and a reflection of me.