When I was a young girl, our young neighbors were part of the Fresh Air Summer program and brought a kind-hearted Black girl my age to live with them in suburban Ohio for about two weeks. I loved her and remembered her name for the longest time, but now 50+ years later it is gone.
I really loved playing with her everyday. What struck me as odd, even at the time, was that she wanted to play “Tammy,” an insipid ABC sitcom starring Debbie Watsen, a sweet blonde southern teen that fell in love with a different beau every week so she could look wistful and sing the popular song, “Tammy’s in Love.”
I always wanted to take turns being the sweet-faced Tammy, but she would never agree since I “looked” the part. We’d always end up crooning together with our arms locked in an embrace, “Tammy, Tammy, Tammy’s in love!”
The neighbors kept in touch with her for a little while but I never saw her again. I often wonder what happened to her. Prayed often she’d had a good life.
That’s a beautiful and heartbreaking memory. The way you describe it — the innocence, the imbalance, even the small detail of who was “allowed” to be Tammy — says so much about how early we absorb ideas about who gets to be seen and who doesn’t. It feels like one of those moments that stays with you because it quietly shaped how you understand the world. I hope she did have a good life too.
The photo you show is from Kenneth Clark’s study of internalized racism. If you discover what that young boy is doing and saying, it will break your heart (if you have one).
When I was a young girl, our young neighbors were part of the Fresh Air Summer program and brought a kind-hearted Black girl my age to live with them in suburban Ohio for about two weeks. I loved her and remembered her name for the longest time, but now 50+ years later it is gone.
I really loved playing with her everyday. What struck me as odd, even at the time, was that she wanted to play “Tammy,” an insipid ABC sitcom starring Debbie Watsen, a sweet blonde southern teen that fell in love with a different beau every week so she could look wistful and sing the popular song, “Tammy’s in Love.”
I always wanted to take turns being the sweet-faced Tammy, but she would never agree since I “looked” the part. We’d always end up crooning together with our arms locked in an embrace, “Tammy, Tammy, Tammy’s in love!”
The neighbors kept in touch with her for a little while but I never saw her again. I often wonder what happened to her. Prayed often she’d had a good life.
That’s a beautiful and heartbreaking memory. The way you describe it — the innocence, the imbalance, even the small detail of who was “allowed” to be Tammy — says so much about how early we absorb ideas about who gets to be seen and who doesn’t. It feels like one of those moments that stays with you because it quietly shaped how you understand the world. I hope she did have a good life too.
You are exactly right, Tomasz. Which makes me want to now learn more about that program. Thank you.
The photo you show is from Kenneth Clark’s study of internalized racism. If you discover what that young boy is doing and saying, it will break your heart (if you have one).
Some poignant shots.
a vile and untalented snake oil selling lowlife