Twenty-six may be a little old to be confronting the issues of prejudice and racism for the first time, that is how old I was when I learned that the term "wrong side of the tracks" was a true statement. Growing up in a small, culturally diverse community, race and class were not issues of consequence. Unfortunately this is not something that is true today, race has become an issue; One that I have had to deal with, whether I wanted to or not.

Leaving my small Southern California town to move into the heart of Mississippi, brought me face to face with fears that I did not even know that I had. The first thing that hit me, was that it was green. Everything, everywhere that I looked was green. Coming from the land of deserts and oceans; I was used to brown sand and brown leaves, blue waters and blue skies. I had never seen so much green. Coming from where I did, the lushness of the landscape was amazing.

Throughout most of my adolescence and early adulthood, I had managed to avoid the issues of race and class. It was no longer avoidable, however, once I made the move from Southern California to Mississippi. I left the oceans and deserts for the lushness of the south. I also left a community that did not recognize class or race, for a small town in the heart of the south where those lines had clearly been drawn. On my first trip to what would be my new home, I essentially looked at this new town through my own pair of rose colored glasses. I, niavely, wanted to believe that the world thought of people as equals. That the concept of being from "the wrong side of the tracks" was an ideal displayed only in movies; and that a person was not judged on the color of their skin, or by how much money they happened to make. I truly was niave.

When my rose colored glasses were removed, by force rather than choice, I truly saw the differences that can exist within the world of a small town. With my romanticized view of the south no longer holding true, I was no longer enthralled with the sophistication and gentility of the main streets. I was able to see past the images of old men playing chess in the park, and little girls playing hopscotch on sidewalks. I was now able to see the other side of this little town. The parts that everyone knows are there, but that no one acknowledges. It is probably true, that every town is constructed just like this one. Main street brings forth images like those seen in movies. Those images that make everyone long for small town life, and dream of the kind of community where the realities of life wouldn't dare enter.

I left a small town, and moved to another small town because that was the kind of upbringing that I wanted for my children. I wanted them to experience the freedom and safety of community. Instead, I took my children to a community that introduced them to the kind of experiences I had been trying to shield them from. This small town really was a miniture city. It was becoming evident, that the borderlands that crisscross our country invade every aspect of society. Including that of a small, southern town.

Soon after moving to this little town, I discovered two things. First, that it contained both public and private school. Second, that if a child came from a "rich" family it went to private school, if the family is "poor" then the child went to public school. I am not poor, but neither am I rich and I have two small children in need of an education. When I enrolled my seven year old daughter in the public school, it honestly did not bother me that the majority of school's poplulation was black. It did not bother me, until I started noticing changes in my daughter's behavior.

All parents have to deal with growing pains when it comes to their children. I, however, was unprepared when my previously well-behaved little girl started acting out. Over a period of time, she seemed to stop caring about my rules or opinions; and gave no thought to reprimands. She started acting out in a way that I considered to be overtly sexual; and even though she did know what sex was, talking about sex and repeating phrases that she apparently had heard while at school.

There were two possible assumptions to make. The first was that by going to school with children who really were "from the wrong side of the tracks," who had access to drugs and the types of influences that I had tried to shield her from, she was simply learning things that I did not want her to know. My conclusion to this possibility was to enroll her in private school with the "rich" kids, and give her a different set of influences and role models. The second possibility was that, being the only "white" girl in her class, the behaviors that she was bringing home had more to do with race than class. My conclusion to this, was again to move her somewhere where she would have a different set of influences.

I wanted to believe that I simply had my child's welfare at heart, that I wasn't trying to shield her from another race. Unfortunately, the two became intertwined and it was no longer a matter of class or race, it was a matter of the "poor blacks" and their influences over my baby girl.

Since the time I spent in this community, I have come to realize that the effects felt by my family, are felt by people all over the world everyday. I have come to realize that the area which I grew up in, a place without cultural or economic lines, is truly an anomoly in today's society. The borderlands of "other" cultures are prevalent in today's world; and while the idea of another race is not what I was trying to shield my daughter from, I have come to realize that this would have been how my actions were perceived.

I was so enthralled with my beautiful image, that I failed to see the other side of my new home. I failed to see the poor, broken version until it was too late. I failed to see it until I had put my daughter, and my family, in the position of having to come face to face wtih its reality.

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