Is there a superior race?

Mrs. Combs was an African-American woman under whose direction I worked one summer as a volunteer in a community center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The center was in an impoverished neighborhood consisting mostly of black families, and Mrs. Combs was the director of children's activities. I was a teenager, and I had always lived in a suburban neighborhood that consisted entirely of white people, so this was a significant learning experience for me.

After the children had gone home one day, and I was helping Mrs. Combs tidy things up, we discussed the special needs of the dear children who came each day to participate in the center's programs. At one point I referred to them as "underprivileged." The comment stopped Mrs. Combs in her tracks. With great tenderness, love, and firmness, she looked me right in the eyes and told me that each one of these children had the very same privileges as every other child of God. She obviously was referring to privileges that transcended human rights, though at the time I wasn't exactly sure what these were. One day she gave me the opportunity to see a shining example of what she meant.

Better service—what's at the heart of it?
February 26, 1996

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