A Grandmother's Reflections on Charlottesville

When I was a teenager, I stood up during the entire performance of the play South Pacific. I was ushering and instead of being paid, I got to see the show. I remember one of the songs was highly controversial. It was entitled, “You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught,” a show tune aimed at racial hatred and fear. It went like this:

You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear
You’ve got to be taught from year to year
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You’ve got to be carefully taught

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a diff’rent shade
You’ve got to be carefully taught

You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You’ve got to be carefully taught.

Mr. Jefferson’s Hometown

I thought of the song this week, when I read of the Charlottesville invasion by neo-Nazis and domestic terrorists. The quiet college town was where my daughter spent 3 years in law school in the shadow of Mr. Jefferson and his ideas on democracy.

My mind drifted back to World War II. I’m of an age still able to remember the horrific events, that nearly doomed us to live in a totalitarian world. I never thought we’d see the day a Nazi would kill an American on our soil, but this week it happened. Looking at the faces of those wild-eyed, torch-bearing young men, many were far too boyish-looking and, obviously, so unaware of history. They had been “carefully taught to hate” without being shown the horror it brings to lives, including their own.

“You’ve Got to Be Taught Before It’s Too Late,
Before You Are Six or Seven or Eight”

In the midst of my despair and wonderment, I got some photos from my son, Tom. He and Lisa and their 6-year-old, Coco, had been in Tanzania and Ethiopia. In the pictures, my granddaughter was doing what kids do worldwide: enjoying the moment with whomever they’re with. I suspect that when you dress dolls, build sandcastles on the beach, and eat with others whose looks, speech, and dress are different, you are being “carefully taught” something—but it ain’t hate.