I was always tall for my age. I started kindergarten at age four because I was tall and could read. I had to be tested by a school psychologist to start school a year early. I’m told he/she said I could handle the work, but I might act immature at times relative to the older students in my class. Looking back, there might be some truth in that relative immaturity remark, but I will neither confirm nor deny it.
I grew up in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on the southside. I used to play at Phelps Park, which was one block from where George Floyd was murdered. Back then, kids played outside instead of indoors on video games. We had enough kids on my block to play football, kickball, whiffle ball, basketball, capture the flag, and whatever else came to mind. A kid named Angelo moved onto our block from New York and tried to introduce us to soccer, but it never took.
My neighborhood was mostly white; my school was mostly white; my church was all-Black and on the other side of town. My grandmother, who lived two blocks away, picked my brothers and me up every Sunday at 9:00 to take us to Sunday School and afterward the 11:00 service. When I was a teenager, I joined the church choir, which practiced on Saturday evenings. I was in a Sunday school class with the same group of kids for several years before graduating high school. Most of us attended various colleges across the country. I was the tallest of the bunch, though also the youngest by a year.
I can’t think of any negative connotation with being tall during my school days. Because of my height, I eventually got placed on a youth basketball team that was not associated with a school. I was awkward and skinny, but nobody else was good either, so it was mostly fun. I didn’t play basketball in high school until my junior year. I was 6' 3", about 180 lbs, and not very threatening. In addition, I was an introvert and very non-confrontational. I have been in three fights in my lifetime, two of those in elementary school (Jimmy Bowman and Scott Mays, who, except for those fights, were my friends). I wasn’t a bully and was likelier to have been the target of bullies during those years.
My coordination was beginning to catch up with my height, and by the end of my first year playing varsity basketball, I displayed moments of talent. Anyone who scored more than ten points during a game got their name in the local newspaper, and I started getting used to looking for my name the day after the game. Almost everything I did was associated with school or church, where everyone knew me, and my size threatened no one. By my senior year, I had reached the height of 6' 6" and was up to about 207 lbs, most of it muscle from lifting weights and participating in sports year-round. I enjoyed being tall as it got me recognition and considering anytime it was cool enough, I was wearing my school letter jacket with pins for basketball, track, and baseball. I was recognized as an athlete first and not a scary, big Black kid. I’m the tall Black kid standing behind our coach in the picture below.
Because I scored well on standardized tests, I was a National Merit Semi-Finalist and got letters, many offering scholarships to schools nationwide. My family helped select Fisk University in Nashville, where I received an academic scholarship that covered most of my tuition. A couple of weeks of playing pick-up basketball in the gym convinced me that I could play at the college level, and I made the basketball team, getting a full basketball scholarship for all but my first Semester at Fisk. I was still filling out, up to about 225 lbs, and was no longer the skinny kid I’d been all my life.
I can’t think of any instance while in college where I encountered anyone threatened by my size. I was still a shy introvert, though I had acquired a more aggressive personality on the basketball court. I was almost the youngest in my class, but life at an HBCU was a relatively safe environment. I spent a couple of summers in Nashville and played basketball in summer leagues with athletes and local business people. My name and photo were in the paper fairly regularly. The young lady with me in the picture above complained that people knew me wherever we went. Usually, someone would interrupt us during my denial, which didn’t help me make my case. While in Nashville, much like in high school, I was in a protected environment surrounded by the village it takes to raise a child.
I have to say that while I was an athlete, I was immediately perceived to be one. I never was responded to with fear as a result of my size. I was a novelty; white people liked approaching me and asking if I was a basketball player. I was non-threatening, and it’s also true nobody threatened me. I had a baby face, was relatively clean-cut, and almost always found myself in safe spaces. I became a college graduate without facing someone who feared me for my size. It was only later that things changed.
My first job after college was in outside sales with Procter & Gamble in their Professional Services Division. I called on doctors, dentists, dermatologists, and hospitals, selling the appropriate products for the professional. I had a territory that covered parts of three states (Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina) and was on the road two to three days a week. I wore a suit, or at least a shirt and tie, while making my sales calls. During the day, I was perceived as a professional and left alone. In the evenings, if I went out in jeans or other casual wear, I discovered that I sometimes made other people, almost always white people, a bit uncomfortable.
It could be alone in an elevator with a white woman or a man. Some of the dentists I called on referred to their patients as having “white-knuckle syndrome” from gripping the arms of their chairs too tightly. Nobody likes to go to the dentist, and sometimes their visits are full of fear visible to others. When traveling, I found myself scaring people in hotel hallways, restaurants, grocery aisles, or any tight spaces. Even when calling on a small office near the end of the day where there might only be a receptionist, nurse, or hygenist alone in the office. My suit and tie weren’t always enough to make them feel safe; I was still a big, Black male.
I used to have a dog, a Weimaraner, which was a German dog bred for hunting. He was a rescue dog and afraid of everything. On our street with very little traffic, cats would lie sunning in the street; after they got to know my dog, they wouldn’t move, making him walk around. He feared fireworks, traffic, raccoons, loud noises, and the dark. His breeding required that he walk a few miles daily, and Charro didn’t need a leash as he wouldn’t run into traffic or attack other animals or people. When other people were walking toward us, I would put him on the leash so they wouldn’t have any unfounded fear as we passed. As I got older, I found myself taking steps to alleviate the fear of others, assuring white people I wasn’t a threat.
Somewhere along the line, I discovered an interest in Black history and read about much I had missed. I didn’t learn about Fisk University's role in the Civil Rights Movement and Freedom Riders until years after attending. Aaron Douglas, the leading artist of the Harlem Renaissance, was on the faculty when I arrived. His murals adorn the ceilings of the administration building, Cravath Hall. I first saw them maybe five years ago while visiting Fisk.
My hair is now grey, and my gait has slowed. I don’t notice people acting afraid anymore; it’s also possible I’ve stopped caring whether they are. Now I worry about my son, who’s 6’ 3” and over 200 lbs. I must ask him about his experiences and whether they mirror mine. I worry that he’ll run across a police officer who fears for his life in my son’s presence. There seems to be a lot of that going on. It would be nice not to have such fears, but that isn’t the world we live in.
I’m not tall, but I am a Black American man. I know very well what you wrote about here, Mr. Spivey; I’ve dealt with making white people feel safe around me for most of my 81 years (so far!). I learned how to be non-threatening around the time I reached puberty. Even in Philadelphia, it was better to seem “safe” than to risk not being perceived that way. It gets really tiresome sometimes. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Mr Spivey, I genuinely love the way you tell a story.
You have done something that I didn't think was needed but it was for me at least. You have made "Black History" into "our American History." Thank you.