I've been thinking a lot lately about my home state of Indiana. Recent events have led to the trending of #BoycottIndiana, which breaks my heart. Having many fond childhood memories, I'd like to say that every moment and every person was warm and inclusive. It wasn't always the case, but I had tons of happy memories to offset the few instances of unpleasantness.
Some of my favorite adventures were had riding the bus downtown to the public library. Nearly everyday in the summers, I'd head down to the library with some neighborhood friends. It was a big milestone, to be riding the bus. I felt like I was on my way to being a grown-up.
One seemingly typical evening, my parents told me that I couldn't go downtown the next day. I'd usually object with some sort of tween-tantrum. But it didn't feel like a punishment. Instead, I sensed the urgency in their command to stay close to home..
You see, that next day there was a Klan rally at the downtown courthouse.
The young version of myself felt frightened. Nightmares of burning crosses kept me housebound all day. While the majority of their concern was probably about the large crowds and congestion downtown, I couldn't help feeling like people might throw rocks at me. Or taunt me for being some sort of an abomination. Or worse.
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