My earliest memory is knowing that I had an older sister, Denise McNair, who was slain by Klansmen in the infamous bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in September of 1963. The knowledge of her death is always with me and shapes everything about my life. You might think that that would have led to my parents teaching me and my younger sister to hate all White people. However, Mamma and Daddy chose to do just the opposite. They never taught us to hate but to love everyone and take time to understand how others see life. Mamma would say, “you can't know a man until you have walked a mile in his moccasins.”
When I am speaking publicly it is my desire to share how my family navigates through life after being a part of such a heinous act of hate. It Is my desire to share with others how we were learning to fight to live for love instead of hate despite how others were telling us not to do so. Love is the only way for understanding, reconciliation, and peace in the world in which we live.