I don’t have very many memories of my great-grandmother. She passed away when I was five and all I have are very vague memories of visiting her when she was in hospice with my dad, wandering through the too-clinically white space and being vaguely scared of the machines. However, the stories my dad and aunts tell about her live on. The problem is, is that not all of them are good memories.
She grew up during the Second World War where her (much older) brothers fought in the Pacific theatre. As a result, she was deeply racist towards anyone of Asian descent, saying things that are almost funny in how ignorant and prejudiced they are. Imagine a stereotype of a racist old white lady and you pretty much have a good picture of how my great grandmother talked about anyone who didn’t look like her. Her racism towards everyone else who isn’t white was less obvious, especially as she grew up and lived most of her life in a predominantly white area, but rather unfortunately, it came out towards the end of her life when she was put in an assisted living facility and hospice with primarily black nurses. Continue reading “Love In Response to Hate”