In my life, I have been a colored, a Negro, a black, an African American, and a person of the global majority.

This is my reflection as a colored girl.

Confronting the realities of traveling during Jim Crow.

Traveling was the greatest adventure for me as a child.

But during the 1940s and 50s, travel could be challenging for colored people due to Jim Crow laws.

We were often denied access to restaurants and restrooms.

Stopping somewhere unfamiliar could mean humiliation, threats, or violence.

So before any trip, the tires, the engine and the water tank were thoroughly checked to avoid mishap.

Colored drivers maintained the speed limit and always were aware of law enforcement.

This was true for my father, who drove to and from Virginia.

Without fail, Daddy was stopped for either driving too fast or driving too slowly.

He carried extra money to pay the fine on the spot.

My family breathed a sigh of relief when he called collect to let us know he arrived.

Traveling by bus during Jim Crow That colored people sat in the back, which is what I did for six years during high school.

My hometown didn't have a school for colored students beyond seventh grade.

Instead I went to a colored high school an hour away.

I stayed with my aunt through the weeks so I could participate in extracurricular activities.

And twice a week coming from and going home, I boarded a Trailways bus, dreading the walk to the back, which for me, meant headaches and nausea from the bus exhaust.

discrimination, even followed us when we traveled north in 1962 on the way to college in Kalamazoo, we had to sleep in our car because no hotel or motel would accommodate us.

Despite these degradations, I learned self-worth through my father.

Daddy didn't talk about race, but his actions spoke loudly.

He once quit a job because of unequal pay.

Daddy had learned that a fellow driver who was white made twice as much money as him.

So Daddy walked into the office and asked for equal pay.

When he was denied, he calmly walked out and came home.

I thought he was so brave.

My father went on to receive employee recognition awards.

He even has a building named after him.

Daddy resisted the subservient role that society imposed on him as a colored man.

He knew who he was.

He knew his self-worth Through my father, This colored girl recognized her own higher purpose.

I now see that these discomforts prepared me for my full potential as the adult I am today.

Funding for this program was provided through a grant from Florida Humanities, with funds from the National Endowment for the Humanities.