
It’s Not a Black and White Issue
It was 1989. I was a white Mormon missionary, a “farm boy” from Idaho Falls, Idaho, assigned to serve in the South Side of Chicago. I probably didn’t need to say I was white because you probably just assumed that when I mentioned the word “Mormon” or “Idaho.” That’s okay. That doesn’t make you a bigot or racist. It just makes you real. Anyhow, inasmuch as my religion had its own history of racism, I was nervous about living in…