I am white but was raised in a congregation where almost everyone was black and poor. We lived in an exclusively white area. During the 50s and 60s, racism associated poverty with being African-American. There were very few professional black role models. I wanted the niceness of my realtives upscale (relatively) congregations. My father was racist but he made an exception for black Witnesses. Strangely, his racism did not move us to a whiter congregation.
We were the outsiders which was very uncomfortable. When black brothers and sisters visited us, the neighbors immediately called to ask if we were selling our house to them. Such conduct now is unthinkable to me. Because of the KH exposure, I was far, far more comfortable with black folk than my classmates at school. I became very interested in the civil rights movement.
Coping with the poverty was hard for me. If I had to attend a meeting in the housing project, I was terrified. Strangely, my classmates in the projects saw my family coming and going. When the racial riots happened at school, I had extra defense. The brothers were functionally illiterate. Perhaps two or three had true reading skills. It caused a crisis b/c when I discovered them misreading the WT in fifth grade, I felt I was sinning against the HOly Spirit and would perish. We were working poor but seemed rich in comparison.
Our whole geographical area was black so the district and circuit assemblies were mostly black. True integration needed more than residence. I was shocked, utterly shock to find out that in the South, congregations were segregation. The Society said it was in deference to the customs of the area as though such stigma and unJesus like conduct could be dismissed so readily. No one I know left when they discovered this fact.
Much of who I am was shaped by being the outcast white minority. People told me I had soul and was not white. Yet when I peered into the mirror, I certainly saw white. Frankly, I loved attending white congregations. More people could read, the discussions were better. I am relating what I knew as a child and young teenager. The systemic tie between race and poverty was not clear. I thought anyone could achieve with error.
There was keen racial tension at school. I was attacked many times for being white. White teachers would clearly see the incidents and ignored them. Poverty upsets me no end. Throughout my life, I fear it much more readily than middle class Americans. I fear I will descend. The Witnesses themselves were decent people. It would have nice to have been invited to a dinner, party or some celebration that occurred. Of course, my family did not start the ball going.
So most of what I experienced would have been far worse in West Virginia with mountaineers.