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I can do more to fight racism in my country.

Ron Smith, Editor

June 5, 2020

2 Min Read
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A traffic stop is an inconvenience to me. For some of my friends, it is a terrifying encounter.Getty Images

Over the past 42 years, I've driven a lot of miles over interstate highways, farm-to-market roads and a few tracks barely discernible from game trails.

I've averaged driving 20,000 miles a year for more than 40 years, and, based on my math, 40 years times 20,000 miles equals, well a whole lot of driving.

Along the way, I've been stopped by city policemen, county sheriffs and highway patrol officers just a handful of times, mostly for speeding but once for running a stoplight (It was late and traffic was non-existent.), once for an expired registration sticker and once for no apparent reason.

I get nervous when the blue light flashes behind me. I pull over and anxiously begin fumbling in my wallet for my driver's license, registration and proof of insurance.

I assume I will get a ticket. I pray that the fine will be minimal and that the transgression will not be serious enough to convince my insurance carrier to raise my premiums.

Being pulled over by a traffic cop is an unpleasant experience.

But not once in however many times I have been lit up and pulled over have I feared for my life. I have friends who can't say that.

I have been reminded of that stark inequality over the last few weeks as several more — too many more — people of color have died for no reason other than that their skin was darker than mine.

I grew up in a segregated, prejudiced, white privilege South. I did not realize at the time that my working-class upbringing (My dad worked in the cotton mill and managed paycheck to paycheck.) was in any way privileged.

I know better now. I didn't have black friends, since my school did not integrate until I was in 10th grade. We lived in separate neighborhoods, attended different churches and shopped in different stores. Separate but equal excused the exclusions but was a damnable lie.

My first black friend was the pitcher for the American Legion baseball team we played for between my junior and senior year in high school. I was his catcher; we formed a bond.

Maybe that experience began to awaken me to the inequality that existed — still exists —in this country. I grew more aware in college where diversity encouraged acceptance.

It was a start. It wasn't enough. It's still not enough. As a successful, white, senior citizen, I remain privileged, beginning to be aware that my position in life could have been, most certainly would have been, much more difficult to achieve had I been Black, Hispanic or Native American.

As I watched the pain, the anguish, and the frustration of Black Americans the last few days I ask, can I do better? I can. I have to try.

A traffic stop is my inconvenience. To some, it's horrifying.

Read more about:

Racism

About the Author(s)

Ron Smith

Editor, Farm Progress

Ron Smith has spent more than 30 years covering Sunbelt agriculture. Ron began his career in agricultural journalism as an Experiment Station and Extension editor at Clemson University, where he earned a Masters Degree in English in 1975. He served as associate editor for Southeast Farm Press from 1978 through 1989. In 1990, Smith helped launch Southern Turf Management Magazine and served as editor. He also helped launch two other regional Turf and Landscape publications and launched and edited Florida Grove and Vegetable Management for the Farm Press Group. Within two years of launch, the turf magazines were well-respected, award-winning publications. Ron has received numerous awards for writing and photography in both agriculture and landscape journalism. He is past president of The Turf and Ornamental Communicators Association and was chosen as the first media representative to the University of Georgia College of Agriculture Advisory Board. He was named Communicator of the Year for the Metropolitan Atlanta Agricultural Communicators Association. Smith also worked in public relations, specializing in media relations for agricultural companies. Ron lives with his wife Pat in Denton, Texas. They have two grown children, Stacey and Nick, and two grandsons, Aaron and Hunter.

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