Similar with me except our neighborhood is mostly Hispanic, just a few black, some white, but most of the white people tend to be the original owners of the houses when they were built in the 1960s, and many are moving out as they age. Some white people move in, especially if you want a cheaper single home, young families wanting a starter house. Lots of houses here are for sale or rent. The market is glutted. Every street has 2-3 homes on it for sale or rent, 3 on our street alone. We've lived here 14 years, and I've never seen the market so bad. My daughter's school I'd say is nearly 95% Hispanic, then white, then black, then a few Asian races.

But where I grew up...it was nearly all white though there was a black section of town. My mother remembers the school district being de-segregated when she was in the 3rd grade, but they were very poor (my grandparents), it didn't make much an impression on her. We hardly went anywhere growing up except to my maternal grandparents' house, and all our relatives were white. One time, we went to the local grocery store, and a black man was there. I'd seen & accepted black people due to having black students in my classes at school. But my youngest sister hadn't been anywhere or ever seen a black person before. She piped up in a loud voice, "Mommy, that man's skin is dark! Why is he black?" I remember my poor mom was humiliated and trying to shush my sister, which wasn't happening. My mom told the man my sister had never seen a black person before. Thankfully, this was one of the kindest men around, and he gently explained to my sister that God made people in all different colors, and He loved them all the same. Years later, my father was laid off from his job and decided to start his own business at home. This man, Pete, was his name was, happened to be my father's very first customer. My parents framed and hung the dollar bill he paid them as it was the first dollar the business had made. Pete was a frequent customer of my father's over the years (my dad fixed things - TVs, VCRs, tractors, cars, etc.), and he was my youngest sister's favorite customer; since my father had a home business, there were plenty of opportunities to talk to & interact with customers. Pete never minded hanging out with her or the rest of us just talking even if it bit into his time. Sadly, he passed away around a year ago, and it really hit my mom hard, she'd gone to the funeral, and was sobbing on the phone talking about it. He was a very kind & good man, especially being faced with my youngest sister popping up with a remark that was/could be interpreted as very racist.

Of course, growing up in that small town, racism abounded, even in places where it shouldn't, like a church Sunday school. One of my mother's best friends in high school was black (probably the only black student in the grade), and she later became a teacher. She was my 4th grade teacher, my favorite teacher I ever had; she was just a wonderful person. It wasn't until years later I thought, "She must have had it so hard." Being in a class first de-segregated and then later going back to work for that very same school district. She didn't teach about racism or tell us her story, but I wish she had. I think those were the days before MLK Day was celebrated as a national holiday, so we didn't even learn about it in school though they teach it now in my daughter's school starting in first grade.

The world can be a crazy place. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Coco. Racism is such a nasty thing