In 1971 I moved from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania into the heart of a North Philadelphia ghetto to work with a Christian Youth Organization. One of my first memories of that move is a little black kid throwing a can at me while I thought, “What have I ever done to him?” I had my purse and my favorite sneakers stolen, my room broken into more than once, and my personal safety threatened on numerous occasions. In 1975 I was attacked from behind by a black man. He stuck a knife to my throat and said, “Get in the car white b**** or I’ll cut your f***** throat. In 1978 I was thrown down a flight of stairs by a black teenager who threatened to rape and kill me. Since my move to Germantown in 1979 I have been called white ass, white b**** and white trash. In 1989 an angry black woman threatened to kill me. In 1993 a hostile black teenage girl threatened to bash my head in with her shovel and bury my white ass in the snow. However, these experiences have not served to make me a hateful person. They have not made me call Black people racists. They have not made me believe that Black people are violent. Even if I had hundreds of negative experiences with Black individuals, I cannot judge an entire race of people by the actions of a handful of folks. I’ve never judged my own race so. I’ve never thrown them all into the same category based on negative experiences with some of them. My experiences have served to make me wonder what on earth has driven people to such extreme behaviors. They have served to make me strong and determined to do what I can to understand and bridge the gap between black and white people in my city and in our nation.