It's in Black and White

Most of the kids at my high school wanted to be cheerleaders or football heroes or in Glee club and I was too clumsy, hated athletics and couldn’t carry a note even in a special note carrying Coach bag. So I was a debater. I have always been clever with words and like nothing better than a spirited, well- researched debate, so it was perfect for me. I was good too. My specialty was extemporaneous speaking. You pull a topic out of a box and give a 3 to 4 minute talk about the topic you pulled. I loved it. I took second place at State one year; I was truly in my element. Our debate coach was Ruby Gubitz. Mrs. Gubitz stood about 5’0 and had a beautiful silver shag hair cut with the hair over her forehead dramatically swooped to one side. She was tiny and had a ruddy complexion and an easy smile. Mrs. Gubitz always wore platform shoes. She was saucy, outspoken and could work those shoes like nothing I had ever seen. I adored Mrs. Gubitz. Traveling around the state with everybody was fun. It meant we got to ride in a school issued white van and go all over Kansas debating capital punishment and alternative energy. We each had a metal 3x5 card box that held our 3x5 white note cards with the facts on each well researched subject handwritten or pasted on so we could debate either side of the issue. One of the other things I liked about going on the road was that we got to eat out at interesting places on the road. One afternoon on our way home we stopped at a little diner in the middle of Western Kansas. There weren’t very many people in there and I remember it being dark and quiet. The entire team led by Mrs. Gubitz shuttled in to the restaurant, and like most adolescents we were so busy talking we missed the action. Suddenly Mrs. Gubitz turns to all of us and put her arm around me and says: “We will be eating someplace else team.” I did not hear what happened, but I looked behind the counter and there was a smug, skinny little white man with greasy spectacles watching us leave. I knew that somehow I was responsible. Mrs. Gubitz pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag and said: “screw it kids, we’re going someplace else.” That was all that was said, and I learned that day that little black kids couldn’t walk into any diner in America and expect a cool drink and a sandwich. It didn’t matter that I was a good debater or that I had placed second in extemporaneous speaking, I was Black first.