“The death of my mother is definitely something that I had to deal with because I was not prepared. I mean, nobody’s really prepared for death. I was an only child. Being as close as I was to her, it catches you off guard. You’re just not ready.

“As long as my mother was alive, I didn’t have to grow up. I didn’t have to worry about a thing because she was right there. She took care of everything. But once she left me, I had to step into that role, become the woman that I’m supposed to be, and just go on with my life.

“It’s been 25 years since she passed. I was 30-something at the time. So I was old enough. I worked all the time. I had a child. And I was very responsible. My mother taught me to be that. She taught me a lot of things.

“What I miss most is just being with her, talking with her, and getting advice from her. The best advice she ever gave me was to always, always, number one, respect yourself. She would preach that to me all the time. She said, a reputation for a woman is easy to get but it’s hard to get away from. And she said, you don’t ever want to get a bad reputation. So respect yourself first, and then be respectful of others.

“I’ve carried that with me. And I’ve laid that piece of wisdom on my own daughter. Just passing it on to the next generation.”

— Mary Arceneaux

Mary, who lives in Crosby, teaches Sunday school at Greater St. John Missionary Baptist Church in Baytown.

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“In 1996, I received a plaque from GCCISD for my PSAT scores on behalf of the National Merit Program. It was called ‘The Exceptional Negro’ award. I’d scored in the top 5% of black high school juniors, which qualified me for the National Achievement Scholarship for Outstanding Negro Students. When I received the award, it did something to me. It translated to me as: ‘It’s a Negro … but an exceptional one.’ I’ve never been the same since that night at the school board headquarters.

“It was the beginning of a revelation that I was content competing to be ‘the best black.’ If I was the best black or separated myself as exceptional among the rest of the black folks around me, I was content with that — proud even. Which wasn’t hard, considering the bias in our school system that measured ‘smarts’ and ‘behavior’ on a scale of ‘ability to appropriate.’

“I had a fierce sense of intellectual competition, but I needed to be seen and respected as exceptional among my black friends only. I was OK with being micro-aggressed, degraded, and even demeaned by my Hispanic and white peers.

“The journey started that night, and it continued into college. College was the first place where I met black students who did not ‘talk white’ who I knew were smarter than me, and I was shocked. Code switching was a social and behavioral survival skill, but I subconsciously thought it was a prerequisite to intellect. I had to unlearn a bias that I didn’t even know I was taught.

“I’ve lived my life under the trope of ‘The Exceptional Negro’ and its weight. I’ve finally come to the conclusion that none of us are free to be exceptional until all of us are free to be average — and still be something.”

— Nikki Brooks II

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“I was a school bus driver for more than 10 years. Driving, I had no problems. The hardest part was taking care of the kids behind me. Some of them, they get ants in their pants and think they don’t have to sit down. But once I showed them that I was interested in their safety and that I cared for them, I never had any problems. I was the kind of bus driver that said, ‘Good morning. How are you doing today?’ When they left I said, ‘Have a nice day.’ They knew that I cared.

“Years ago, I worked for the State of Indiana as a correctional officer. The key to that job was to treat the inmates like they were human, not like animals. I knew they were in there for a reason. They broke the law and they were paying the price. But the only thing they should lose is their freedom. They shouldn’t lose their dignity.”

Did they respect you?
“Yes they did, because I showed them that I cared. I treated them humanely. And I had inmates who had my back. They told the other inmates, ‘Leave that officer alone. He’s fair.’”

— Terry Nevorski

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“I’m entering my second year of teaching third grade. I thought I’d want to teach middle school, maybe even high school. So, when a job presented itself for third grade, I was hesitant. But after my first year, I love it.

“The kids still respect you at that age. They’re still impressionable. They still love school. They still love their teachers as teachers. They still respect them as adults. I’m really enjoying it.”

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