Reflections on Brown
By Windie O. Scott

I heard of the Brown vs. Board of Education case long before I knew what it meant.

For me, the Supreme Court's order requiring desegregation with "all deliberate speed" meant that in 1966, twelve years after the decision, my parents would stoically approach me with a lifechanging proposal: the opportunity to join four other students in integrating Sacred Heart Academy. I was thirteen years old, about to graduate, as valedictorian, from eighth grade at all-black Our Mother of Sorrows School when integration hit Biloxi, Mississippi. There was never any question that I would go to Sacred Heart. In fact, I was proud and excited about being a part of something described as "bigger than each of us," a chance to become a "warrior" in the civil rights movement.

I found upon entering the academy that the "war zone" wasn't the environment of violence I had witnessed on television. Instead, the four of us were faced with surrounding glares, sounds of muted comments from parents dropping off children, or just plain indifference. When I fulfilled a life long dream of playing in a marching band, I found that I had peeled away yet another layer of "forbidden fruit." By invading the revered band that had played at President Lyndon Johnson's inaugural and was referred to as the "toast of Mississippi," I had opened up another can of racist worms.

In a band steeped in family tradition, my Scottish kiltstyle attire was formed from a pile of various pieces so that no particular past band member or relative could be blamed for providing me with a uniform. In a school centered around religion, band members refused to allow me to join them in a huddle of prayer before performances. Band engagements were cancelled because of the news that there was a Negro in the band, which compounded the initial resentment that some whites felt about the integration of the high school. Also, it didn't help that the mascot was a rebel flag!

My strongest memories of my experience in the band were the taunts and name-calling I endured from one segment of people and the cheers and praises I heard from another. Both sides saw me not as a person but as a symbol, either of defeat or victory.

The Brown decision also stands as a symbol. It is symbolic of our country's declaration of equality of opportunity to all its citizens. I feel strongly that the significance of the decision is that it affected children, black and white, who were forced to change their lives to enact the rule of law. Before I left Sacred Heart, my oversized band shirt was graciously tailored by one of the mothers and toward the end of the football season, I was led from my usual place on the sideline to join in the band's prayer. Many in the environment, including myself, had grown from the experience and began to see each other as people rather than intruders or resisters.

On this fiftieth anniversary of this landmark case, we should reflect upon the progress made, recognize that hate is borne out of fear and ignorance and reaffirm our commitment to equal opportunity for all citizens. We will then have regenerated hope in our future and fulfilled the promise of Brown.

The author, Windie O. Scott, is a past president of the Sacramento County Bar Association and currently serves as Vice President for Division 2 of the State Bar Board of Governors.