Send us a textI sometimes tell people that I am a recovering racist.  It is not really my fault.  I grew up in a culture (the 1950s in the border South) when that was just the way things were.  The outward and visible sign of our moral failure was that word.  You know the one I mean.  We used that word without even thinking of it.  It was just the word we used.  But as I went to college and had two Black room mates, and then lived in Kenya for two years, where all of my students were Black and I was often the only white person around, my way of thinking began to change.  This is a personal story, but it is really a story of how America changed.  And  after I wrote up my thoughts, I posted on Facebook the story of my struggles and asked my friends and former students to share their experiences and reactions. Their contributions are part of the podcast. I  think you will find this podcast of some interest. And perhaps it will help those of you who are overseas to understand a bit about how we Americans, with our terrible history of racial injustice, struggle with our past. 

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