It’s Just Skin



In 1929 money was scarce. Jobs even more so. But a young woman was determined to become a nurse. The sick needed care, and Grace felt called to the rigors of the job.

 

She worked every floor of Portland’s massive Providence Hospital. Emergencies were met with Grace’s calm, skilled care. This was well before many of the medical advancements that made diagnosis and treatments easier.

 

This was also well before the Civil Rights Movement. But hardworking Blacks had moved to Oregon during the Great Depression, even though systemic racism, dating back to its statehood, denied Blacks good employment.

 

Yet, sickness and injuries were commonplace in the logging camps that encircled the great city.

 

Grace saw so many people—often on their worst days and cared for them—literally nursing them back to health.

 

Prejudice never occurred to her. She was fond of saying, “It’s just skin—what’s inside matters more.”

 

Grace was referring to people’s minds and how it affected their hearts of love.

 

As our nation continued to face decades of racial abuse and discrimination, Grace kept saying “It’s just skin.” She couldn’t understand the prejudice. She was never afraid of speaking out against injustice.

 

I grew up during the Civil Rights era, and Grandma Grace frequently reminded me that I didn’t deserve more because I was white. 

 

I still don’t. 

 

Grandma never remained silent. She’d tell me and anyone who’d listen, “It’s just skin—what’s inside matters more.” 

 

And it always will. 

 

My voice could have been louder against the injustice over the years. 

 

I have no excuse, just sorrow that I didn’t carry Grace’s torch forward.

 

But it’s never too late to pick it up  and let it shine for justice and love.

 


"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” 

Martin Luther King Jr.





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