The First Ladies by Marie Benedict & Victoria Christopher Murray

Author:Marie Benedict & Victoria Christopher Murray [Benedict, Marie & Murray, Victoria Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 35

MARY

Washington, D.C.

September 24, 1935

As I step out of the train from Florida into Union Station in Washington, D.C., the irony of my situation makes me laugh. After having spent nearly an entire day and night in a hot, squalid colored train car, I’m on my way to accept a federal position, an appointment made by the president.

Union Station is buzzing with the chatter of arriving and departing passengers. Typically, I take my time as I pass through this terminal—its architecture is a balm that calms me after the hardship of traveling as a colored woman. But today, I do not slow down, for I cannot be late.

Eleanor managed to make the impossible happen. While we were focused on getting colored men into federal positions, she secured this federal role for me, behind the scenes, anyway. It was an idea that came to Eleanor when she was unable to attend the NAACP convention. She sent the influential Miss Josephine Roche in her stead. Eleanor knew that as the assistant secretary of the treasury and cochair of the National Youth Administration’s executive committee, Miss Roche would be an important ally. Sure enough, after hearing my speech, Miss Roche returned to the White House with a glowing review. And when Eleanor suggested that I be considered for a position with the NYA, Miss Roche agreed and recommended me to the chair of the Executive Committee.

How excited I was to receive the call. The National Youth Administration is forming an advisory council, and as one of the members, I’ll have input into federal programs that specifically focus on colored youth. I’ll be part of a team that ensures New Deal monies are being directed into Negro communities, and today is our first meeting.

As I step out of Union Station, the sun is blinding. Is this a sign of the bright future that lies ahead as I return to federal work?

Squinting, I move to the roped-off colored section for taxis, but the line is long. I glance at my wristwatch and begin to feel anxious. There are plenty of taxicabs for white passengers, but only a few for us colored travelers.

By the time I arrive at the federal building on Constitution Avenue, I am fifteen minutes late. Not the impression I wanted to make on my first day. I locate the conference room and push the door open. A sea of white male faces look up from around the table, deep frowns on their faces. I can almost hear their thoughts: What are you doing here? You don’t belong.

I stand at the door, the heat rising beneath my skin. Yes, I belong here, I want to shout. Yes, my skin is one hundred shades darker than yours, and still, I belong in this conference room as much as you do.

Pressing my lips together, I push my anger into my fingers and grip the handle of my valise tighter.

“Excuse me,” the gentleman at the head of the table says, but he does not stand. “I think you’re in the wrong place.

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