My name is John Huie, one citizen of Asheville.
I’m not an expert on reparations and don’t know anyone who is. But I know this: Asheville has an opportunity, a responsibility, and a moral obligation to do Reparations right—and the Reparations Commission members are hard at it on behalf of all of us who care.
Thousands of us white folk in Asheville want to double down as unflinching allies of the Reparations Commission and of the Black community. We celebrate the work of the Commission. We—many of us—are highly aware that none of us will be free until all of us are free. The work the Commission is doing is liberating for all of us.
Life in the Epicenter of Jim Crow
I was born and raised in Albany, Georgia, the epicenter of Deep South slavery. I grew up there in the 1950s, the era of rigid segregation. Somehow, I did not grow up hating or fearing Black people. My friends in high school considered me a “race traitor” and likely a Communist. And I was fortunate to learn perseverance and spirit from Black people, in particular one woman named Fannie May Bob. I acknowledge her here with gratitude.
When Martin Luther King, Jr. and SNCC volunteers marched in the streets of Albany, Georgia, in 1961, I was there watching—but I did not march with them. I took no risk.
During those SNCC protests, when two young Black men about my age (24 years old) were on trial for trying to integrate the Albany city buses, I attended the trial. I sat on the “white side” of the small courtroom. Right in the middle of proceedings, two SNCC workers stood up and moved from the “Black section” to the white side. My instinct was to stand up and move to the Black section. I knew that would have a dramatic effect. I slid forward in my seat as three Albany policemen moved swiftly to drag the two young Black men from the courtroom. I did what we white people usually do—hesitated, held back, took no risk. I slumped back in my seat.
The Courage to Stand Up
I apologize to…
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