Racial Profiling in 1968

Racial profiling is such a hot topic in current events. Black Lives Matter seems to be the one that is pushing an agenda.

I don't care what name you use to label this, it still boils down to bullying which is the excuse used to justify wanton destruction and killing.

Always it seems it is the innocents in society who are hurt by such tactics. Little children are being shot to death-murdered-during these 'peaceful' protests.

Racial profiling is not new and it is NOT just the white race who are the perpetrators.

I was in junior high school (La Cumbre Jr. High). For the most part I was one of 'those' students who tried to keep a low profile. Stay out of their way and maybe they'll leave you alone, right? Maybe.

Linda Cedillo was in my English Class. We would chit chat a bit before class began. I had always considered her a friend. Linda had a friend, Sylvia Guevara. Sylvia complained to Linda about needing someone to beat up so Sylvia could prove to her boyfriend she was 'tough'. Yes, this is a culture thing. Not something that was part of my culture-this was Sylvia's culture.

One day after school I went to the bike racks, like I always did. BTW, it's loads of fun riding a bike in a dress-but that was the required attire in school, so that's what I did. The bike racks were out by the bus loading zone. Sylvia, with a group of her supporters/friends/eye witnesses, came up to me and started yelling at me. I didn't understand the words coming out of her mouth and I certainly didn't recognize her. I had no idea what her complaint was. But after a couple yells from her, still just standing there with my arms at my side and a look of 'what' and total bewilderment on my face, she shoved me-hard. I stumbled back a few paces. Then she came up to me again and shoved me again-really hard and yeah, I stumbled and fell down. Scraped my hand a bit and it hurt to sit so hard on the ground.

She was yelling this whole time and I still had no clue what her complaint was. Finally yelling something else-proving to her friends how tough she was, they dispersed. It was over, so I thought, and I got on my bike and rode the 2-1/2 miles home.

The next day in one of my classes I got a note to go report to the counselor's office. What?! I didn't do anything-as far as I knew.

The counselor asked if I knew Sylvia Guevara. No. Well, she's been in one of your classes. That didn't mean a thing. I only talked with a few of the kids in any of my classes. Nezzie Hall, Linda Cedillo, Lynne Lowe. Then the counselor started asking me questions. No I wasn't in a fight. Yes I was a victim-not a participant. What's the police definition? Oh yeah, combat if you fight back. I did not. Then the counselor went on about how this person was told I said something derragatory about her and how wrong it was to do such a thing. What? I don't even know her. I did not say anything. I had no reason to, no purpose in it. At the end of the 'visit' the counselor said because I did not fight back I wasn't going to get suspended from school. Sylvia on the other hand was.

This whole ordeal, Sylvia attacking me; the counselor assuming Sylvia was telling the truth-this was all racial profiling. It was bullying-from both Sylvia and from the school counselor. I was left hung out to dry.

I did nothing.
I perpetrated nothing.
I was innocent.

How do I know Linda gave my name to Sylvia?
How do I know Sylvia was looking for a fight?
How do I know that Sylvia was trying to prove something to her boyfriend (wonder how that worked out for her-are they still together; was it worth the fight/school suspension)?

I know because the week after all this happened, Linda, having an honest heart and knowing I was innocent told me that Sylvia asked her for a name. And Linda gave her my name.

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