Don't Judge Me Until...

I will turn seventy this year so I must be elderly, incapacitated and feeble of mind. Some Septuagenarians consider themselves elderly. Certainly some are in poor health physically and or mentally. But I’m active, walking 3.5 miles a day. My mind, although not as sharp as a young person’s, is clear enough for me to make sound decisions, keep up with a website and manage our home.

I am a female so I must love romance novels. Pink must be my favorite color and I must need to be looked after by a man. I like pink, but aqua is my favorite color. Romance novels - don’t care for them. My husband and I care for each other in ways spouses do, but I’m capable of making plans and bringing them to fruition.

I am Caucasian so I must be a racist and a white supremist. Uh oh. Were you on board until this one? Have you bought into the notion that this country is fundamentally racist Or are you, like me getting tired of all the finger pointing and name calling?

So I ask you, don’t judge me until … you’ve talked to the renters in our units, many who are disadvantaged, some with special needs, mental or physical. James and I work to keep the rent below market value and the properties safe and well-maintained.

Don’t judge me until … you consider the patients I’ve cared for in my nursing career, many from underserved communities. I’ve stood at bedsides passing the time of day with lonely patients. I’ve prayed over people who have little hope. I’ve cleaned and treated decubitus so large you could place a hand inside. I’ve bathed the bodies of patients who couldn’t lift a finger to help themselves and spoon fed those who lay helpless. I’ve administered life-saving medications.

Don’t judge me until  … you’ve listened to the men enjoying a meal at Room in the Inn, a program James and I headed up at our church for many years. Men of every age and ethnicity arrived hungry and cold. They were greeted with a friendly smile, a hot meal, encouragement to interact, a shower and bed in a safe environment. And breakfast the next morning with a sack lunch to go.  

Don’t judge me until … you’ve seen the sparkle in the eyes of the children attending Project Transformation, a program to improve children’s reading, social and other skills with the help of volunteers. I’ve worked one on one with many boys and girls and encouraged each to open a book and read. I’ve listened, helped them sound out unfamiliar words and praised their efforts.   

Don’t judge me until … you understand that I attended Tennessee State University, a black college, at a time when few whites walked the campus. I worked alongside African-American students in labs, compared notes with them in classes and attended the same graduation ceremony. And all without conflict.

 I tell you these things not to brag, for many have contributed more than I. But rather to ask, why, without knowing anything about me except the color of my skin, do some people lump me into a category of being a racist and maybe even a white supremacist? Hatred comes from the heart. We aren’t born with it because we’re a certain color. I don’t want to be classified as a racist or a victim. And I don’t think you do either. Because I love God, I love His creations.

Am I the only one concerned about this disconnect between the races? This rhetoric that separates and divides us and limits what we strive to achieve? If you believe I am then ignore this essay. But if you’re feeling it too and don’t like it, speak up. Because no matter our race, ethnicity, gender, appearance, station in life, faith or age, we are all created equal. The Bible proclaims it and our Constitution affirms it. So, let’s start living like we believe it.  

Written by Linda Sawyer

April 29, 2021