I Never Spoke to a Black Man Until I Went to Mizzou
This post is by WUFT/WRUF’s Chief Meteorologist Jeff Huffman.
My first conversation with a black man didn’t come until the age of 19. His name was Terry. I was a sophomore at Mizzou and the leader of a Christian singing group sponsored by the Baptist Student Union called “Evidence”. I don’t remember if we recruited him or if he found us. All I knew is that the man could throw down a tune and that he had a gift.
Prior to knowing Terry, I had only seen black people on television or when my high school basketball team played a nearby school. All of the roughly 160 classmates in my graduating class of 1997 were white. Even today, when you visit my hometown of Dexter, Missouri — just a few miles from the border that separated the North and South in 1861 — you likely won’t see a man or woman of color unless it’s at a gas station on the outskirts of town. I have never understood why or had the courage to bring it up, but I’m desperate for answers.
