Power of Equality…

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By Mark Koruba

I was raised on the Southwest side of Chicago by my single mother in my grandparents’ home. For those that do not know Chicago was a segregated city at the time and remains so to this day. My home was two blocks away from a small “black neighborhood”. The boundaries were determined by major thoroughfares and no one crossed the lines either way. There were Latinos and Middle Easterners living in my neighborhood that also did not cross into the “black neighborhood”. As children the fear of the other was stoked almost daily. I did not go to school with African American children until I reached junior high. I quickly discovered that all the fear was manufactured. I befriended an African American young man by the name of Sammy McGee. We connected based on our sense of humor, ball breaking abilities and with some music.

Shortly into the seventh year of schooling I was fortunate enough to go on a photo safari In Kenya(my mother worked for TWA). I saw animals in their natural environment, even a cheetah within 10 feet of the van in which we were touring. However, the thing I was most impressed with were the people. From Masai warriors to tour guides to hotel workers, we were all treated extraordinarily well, and we responded in kind. I never felt unsafe or unaccepted, I was treated as any 12-year-old kid would be in Chicago.

At the termination of my seventh school year, it was decided that I was a classic underachiever. “You’re so bright, if only you’d apply yourself!”, was a mantra chanted at me for years. My thought, ” Yeah, well, if you weren’t so damned boring…”. I was packed off to a Catholic coed boarding school…coed, was my only salvation, or so I believed at the time. My first night in those dorms, a room large enough to play floor hockey, filled with single beds on frame rails and dozens of armoires all arranged in neat little rows, was a bit frightening. There was also the “house father”, Mr. Sheridan, who was expected to control 20 13-year-old boys with all their individual issues. He did as good a job as anyone could have given the situation. The greatest thing that came out of my attending this school was that I lived with several African American kids, both male and female. I learned that there was no difference amongst us other than the color of our skin. Some of us even became friends and remain so until this day.

I survived the boarding school experience only to be sent off to a Catholic high school, which is a story for another day and a different song. However, as I stood on a Chicago bus-stop with dozens of other students, a joint in my pocket in desperate need of smoking. I spied what I thought was a fellow traveler. Tall, thin and resembling Jimi Hendrix stood Ed. We got high and became fast friends. Forty years later and I have been best man at both of his marriages, thick as thieves we are.

Disclaimer: This is not an article about, “Look at me, I have black friends”. That fact is incidental. It is about finding my own way through racist tropes and ideologies that were accepted as gospel when I was a child.

This song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers always brings back lots of memories and conjures my deepest feelings about racism. “Blood Sugar Sex Magic” was a watershed moment for the band. It not only produced two hits, “Under The Bridge” and “Give It Away”, the record was produced by funk icon George Clinton, which gives the entire album a crossover feel Now go get some, Flea!

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