I’m not sure how this column will be received, but I’m writing it anyway. That’s the strong, independent streak I received from my mother.

I was protected from racism and its negative influences by a strong, white woman and to this day, I am amazingly thankful for it. My mother didn’t agree with, approve of, or tolerate racism. There was none of that in my household. She judged people on the content of their character and urged me in that direction – a course I gladly took then and I’m steadfast in today.

Looking back now, I can see the vast scope of negativity that my mother was up against. It surrounded her and if not for her strong-willed nature, she might have succumbed to its influence.

I was born and raised in Grundy County. Back in the day, according to my mother, it was an area that did not feel the same as she did.

During my 20s, she told me stories that raised my eyebrows. One was of

a black man who came to town looking at properties for sale to relocate his family. He was escorted to the county line and told not to come back. I was shocked that those kinds of activities went on around me.

She always ended reminisces with strong words against people who believe they are somehow better than others based on nothing more than skin color. I, again, was thankful that my mother was strong enough to resist the environment that surrounded her so that I, too, could share in those beliefs.

I’ve often said that my mother refused to see color, but I think I was wrong. I think she saw it and she thought it was beautiful. Taking me to that realization was my mother’s love for baby dolls. She expected one from me on her birthdays and at Christmases. I did not fail. I gifted her with probably 60-65 baby dolls over the years.

Her favorite baby dolls were the black ones because she said they were prettier. About half the ones I purchased were black. She loved the porcelain ones the most.

One such doll cost me about $300. It was a limited edition, lifesized baby.

Brittany (the name on the box) was absolutely beautiful. She came wearing a lovely dress and had her own baby doll. I can fondly remember the wide eyes as my mother opened that box and tears as she lifted Brittany from it.

When my mother passed away, I allowed family members to take a baby or two. I kept Brittany. She has been in my closet. With the opening of the Black History Museum of Warren County, I took her out in contemplation of making it a donation.

To me, that baby stands as a testament to a very strong woman, the beauty in diversity and the people who embrace differences rather than reject them.

Standard reporter Lisa Hobbs can be reached at citynews@southernstandard. com.