Pauli

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P A U L I

Pauli: A Personal History Narrative by Pauli Taylorboyd, PhD ABD University of Wisconsin Milwaukee, Emerita United States of America as told to, and edited by, Alicia Haywood, PhD

Dedication .......... 4 Introduction .......... 5 “What is she?” .......... 8 When the World Threw Me Away .......... 16 My Early Adulthood .......... 24 Audrey and Hugh .......... 32 Light Skin .......... 40 Stoic Skill .......... 46 Love and Survival Skills .......... 52 Leo .......... 55 My Student-Children-Family .......... 60 Why Wisconsin? .......... 68 Happy .......... 71 Finding Sisterhood .......... 75 What Harm Taught Me .......... 78 Acknowledgement .......... 83 A Note from Alicia .......... 84 Editor’s Note .......... 85 Contents P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m

For every pain that I had... something better came of it.

A lesson for educators. A clarion call for social workers. A compass for those who serve the public. A lifeline of inspiration for people carrying hurt. A beacon for any soul aging out of foster care. Dedication P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 4

I choose not to speak of myself. I started that when I was teaching. I think I started teaching in 1982, and I taught a class called Black Reality: What It Means to Be Black in America. And I knew it was going to be half hilarious, half you-better-have-your-act-together, sister, because if you mess up on the first day, they ain't coming back. Students coming in the room to see what it means to be Black saw me sitting up there in front of them. Black students were, ‘oh, hell no.’ White students were a little bit more sheepish: ‘Well, I thought I'd have a Black teacher finally…I guess I don't.’ It was upon me on that first day to make it or break it. So, I would have a very structured first day. I would say, “I'm going to irritate you twice. I am going to tell you we work in groups, and so I'm going to divide you now.” And they’d moan… ‘ohhhhhhhhh’…but I’d say to them, “you will survive.” Introduction P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 5

We work in groups, and the questions that I develop for each group are indicative of the questions that are on the test. And the test is essay. And in many cases, it was take-home because they couldn't cheat. They were questions you couldn't cheat on. “Then once you get in groups, I will tell you that I don't lecture.” And they’d look at me. I’d say, “Why would I assign you a chapter and then have a class where I told you what the chapter was about?” And slowly, I began to draw people in who felt comfortable sharing things about their lives and their difficulties, many of them with race, sometimes in families. And I always made it. But it was a skill. And it took a lot of skill to do that without telling them what I was, because I never did that. The course was handed to me after somebody quit. Dr. Winston Van Horn rushed down to my office after I had just shortly been at UWM. I think I had been a student of his. Introduction P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 6

It was probably '81. I was PhD ABD. He said, ‘Pauli, I'm in trouble. I need someone to teach two sections of Black Reality.’ And that's how it started. Class started a couple of weeks later. It was the biggest blessing to me. Teaching that course changed my life. Sometimes students would ask me, ‘what are you?’ And I would say, “this class is not about me. It's about who are you? Who are you?” I remember one student, Miss Erica Brown. I was teaching her at Marquette University. She said, ‘Pauli, the first day you walked in, I thought you were white. After ten minutes, I wasn't sure. By the end of the class, it didn't matter.’ That's where I wanted them to be. Because in my lifetime, especially before, I would say even before the year 2000, that's what everybody focused on. ‘Well, what is she? What is she? Not who is she, but what is she?’ Introduction P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 7

P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m “What is she?” Photo: Hugh holding me, September 1948. Mexico City. I was born April 1, 1948. In 1948, the United States was a very dangerous place for Black folks. My mother and my father met in college in Michigan. My father was on a G.I. Bill, and my mother came from a very wealthy family. They decided to get married, but in 38 of the 48 states, it was illegal to do so.

My mother was white and my father was Black. He said he was Black and Indian. They went to study abroad in Mexico for a year and get married in Mexico City—thinking it would be a better climate for them. But even where it [interracial marriage] was legal, it was not tolerated. And a Black man walking down the street with a white woman was subject to be shot or beaten, and there was no recourse. It wasn't even really considered a crime. My father did finish his bachelor's degree. I don't know if my mother did or not. And they had me. So, I maintain my dual citizenship in Mexico and the United States. We moved to Canada for about a year. Then, we moved to Madison, Wisconsin, so my father could do his law degree, and he did that there. And I must say, in 1954, Madison was liberal as all get-out. Neighbors were friendly. My parents could not walk down the street together, but they were friendly, and they invited us kids into their home. My father got his law degree and we moved to Milwaukee. “What is she?” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 9

Lo and behold, when I was six years old, my mother decided she wanted a divorce. It absolutely emotionally ruined my father. You see, he had no family either. His mother was 16 when she had him in Texas. She was a day worker. That meant she was a servant. She had a diabetic seizure as she waited for public transportation. Police came and thought she was drunk and beat her to death in jail. So he grew up with no mother. His mother had never indicated who his father was. And so the divorce from my mother really tore him up. But my mother had been going with a man in college before my father and decided she wanted to be with him. Whereas that man was Latino, she described him as white, as European. He lived in Costa Rica, and he was a Venezuelan oil tycoon. My parents split in Milwaukee and got a divorce. My mother took me and my two younger brothers, and got on a plane to Costa Rica. I lived in Costa Rica for about a year. “What is she?” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 10

Then at one point she said, ‘Pauli, you're going on vacation. We're going to send you to your father's home in Los Angeles…it'll just be for a little while and then you'll come back.’ And somehow I knew in my young mind—I was seven years old— that I would never see them again. I didn't know why. But I got on the plane to California, crying most of the way. I was sitting in a seat all by myself, nobody to the right or the left. And a gentleman who was kind of talking really loud, and kind of commanding the audience of the plane— very jovial—he said, ‘come here little girl,’ and he gave me a piece of candy. I felt a little better. That was it. Photo: Me with my younger brothers, Jud and Benjamin. Costa Rica. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m

My father was unhinged—an emotional mess. I didn't like staying with him. He couldn't keep no kids. He had no interest in having any kids. It wasn't that he wasn't a good person, but he didn't need to have a child. And he kept dropping me off at people's houses in Los Angeles and asking them to keep me. Finally, one day, he said, ‘Pauli, where do you want to go?’ I was seven years old. I said, “we lived in Milwaukee for a short time, and I was happy there. Take me to Milwaukee.” He said, ‘but who am I going to leave you with?’ And I'm seven years old. I said, “leave me with the people that lived across the street. They liked me.” Somehow, he got in touch with them (Mr. and Mrs. Miller), and we drove to Milwaukee. I stayed with the Millers for a short while. They were white. They had a bunch of children so there really wasn't a lot of room for me. I just remember them being nice to me, having fun, like the kids were my friends.“What is she?” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 12

When my father returned to Milwaukee, he and I lived in a one-room apartment at the back of the Enchanted Beauty Shop on 15th and Center —the Black sector of Milwaukee. He tried to stay, but he couldn't. He was just emotionally unable to. He left me with the people upstairs from the Enchanted Beauty Shop, Lorraine and Henry Paul. Henry Paul was a new doctor. He and his wife Lorraine and their delightful son Hank lived upstairs. My father asked them [if I] could I stay up there with them? They said yes, and he was off again, which was a good thing. They took me in, and kept me for almost a year. I was happy. The Pauls did offer to take me, but they were taking me back to California where I had just been terrified by my father. I couldn't do it. I told them I didn't want to go back to California. Wisconsin was always my happier place. “What is she?” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 13

That’s me, fifth from right in the middle row—the only student not facing forward. I was eight years old. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m

Age 8

One day I came home from school and a white woman appeared in our apartment. That was very strange. White people didn't come in Black apartments. Matter of fact, I didn't even know what a white person and a Black person was. I wasn't sure...and doggone skippy didn't know what a light-skinned person was—and why that was important. The white woman came in and asked me to sit down in a dining room chair. I did. I had my stoic appearance on, as I always do. She said, ‘your mother and your father are not coming back to get you. They don't want to give up their parental rights, but they don't want to come and get you. We have to find a home for you. They said, we have to acknowledge that you are bi-racial and we have no families that are bi-racial to take you. We're now looking for a light-skinned family.’ When the World Threw Me Away P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 16

I'm sitting up there, at age 8, thinking, ‘light-skinned family? bi-racial? what are they talking about?’ But I didn't ask any questions, and I wasn't asked if I had any questions. They said, ‘it's going to be very difficult, but we'll do our best.’ In time, they did find a family where the woman was light-skinned and the man was…tan, I guess you could say. And they said, ‘we're so happy to find this family. He's a lawyer, she's a stay-at-home mom, and they have an adopted daughter five years younger than you.’ So it was a car ride with the social worker to this family: The Wilsons. Roy and Carolyn Wilson, with their adopted daughter, were one of the first families that moved into the suburb of Wauwatosa in Wisconsin. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 17

The agency thought it was such a coup to have me there because Carolyn Wilson was light-skinned and I was light-skinned. They were all about matching people who would look like each other. I was 8 years old. And if it wasn't enough for the social workers to throw me away, this family finished the job. They were the most horrible people you could ever meet. My first day in their home, the woman—the light-skinned foster mother— told me that the amount of money she was getting to keep me was not enough, so I would be their servant. She gave me all of my marching orders for every day of the week. I was not allowed to ride in either of their two cars. I always had to take the bus. I was not allowed to put my dirty clothes in their wonderful washing machine. I had to wash them by hand and hang them up on a piece of wood. I became the built-in babysitter for the bi-racial adopted daughter they’d had since birth. She and I got along fine, but they kept us separated at all times. She went to University School, which is quite exclusive. She was the only Black person there. I went to public school—Webster Elementary and Longfellow Junior High in Wauwatosa, [good schools] and I was the only Black person there. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 18

The Wilsons were well-to-do people, but they didn't feed me right. I was very skinny—and I'm still skinny now today—but I was hungry all the time. None of the social workers asked me about it. One of the doctors said, put her on some vitamin pills. But, you know, that [experience] was just something that I was able to throw away when I walked away. A defining moment for me in that home was the first Christmas with the Wilsons. I had never experienced Christmas before, and I woke up flabbergasted. It was an extravaganza. They had a whole session of exchanging gifts—thanking each other—and there wasn't a single present for me. There must have been 50 presents in the room, all fancily wrapped up, and nothing was for me. ‘Pauli clean this up and then you can come to breakfast.’ I was devastated. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 19

For eight years, from age 9 until age 17, I was berated. I was told I was ugly. I was told I would never amount to anything. I was never told I did a good job. Nothing. I think it was all a trying experience because kids at school always wanted to know, ‘why is your last name Taylor and their last name Wilson?’ I would always say, “I don't know.” I thank the Jewish community, though. In the old days, the Jewish community really helped the Black community where it could. One way that they helped is through Camp Sidney Cohen, an overnight camp that ran all summer long in Delafield where Jewish kids would spend two weeks at a time. They allowed Black kids to come. There weren't many of us that went, but I did. That was my two-week refresher. I [started going] there when I was 9, and then I think I aged out at 14. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 20

And one thing that was really fascinating is that one Jewish girl, her name was Rachel Ben-Shmuel, became my friend. I shared a little bit with her about what was going on, but not a lot. And after I aged out, she and I remained friends. She lived right off Capitol [Drive], so I could take the bus to go by her house sometimes. At 17, the agency told me they [the Wilsons] didn't want me anymore. I did not shed a tear, I must say. But then the agency again, said, ‘Pauli, we don't know how to place you. You're 17. There aren't any families out there that want a 17-year-old.’ And I said, “well, I don't know.” I got kind of worried, but I didn't say anything. I told Rachel that I was kind of scared because they didn't have a home for me. Her mother went down to the agency and offered to take me. I didn't know that happened until one day I was riding the bus down Capitol Drive, and Mrs. Ben-Shmuel was riding the bus as well. She said, ‘I want to let you know that I tried to get you. I tried to get you to come live with us.’ P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 21

Her husband had died in a boating accident years [before] so it was just her, her son, and her daughter in a two-bedroom place. It was a really small duplex, but she was willing to take me. But [the agency would not allow it]. I was not white. As God would have it, the agency was [located] in the YWCA in downtown Milwaukee, and there was a receptionist there who used to watch me walk in and out of the building when I had to come down for my reviews. She said, ‘I'll take her.’ She wasn't even asked. ‘Yeah, I'll take her. Yeah, I'll take her.’ And I went to live— as God would have it, I went to live with Catherine and James Jackson and their adopted son Melvin. They had a daughter, Gail, and a daughter, Dory, who were grown. It was the most wonderful thing that ever happened. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 22

That was the first time that I had a full plate; the first time that I could make a regular lunch to take to school. At the Wilson household, every year from 4th grade through 11th grade, all I was allowed to have for lunch was two pieces of Wonder bread with either a slice of bologna or a smear of peanut butter. Nothing else. No fruit, no vegetables, no potato chips, no lettuce, no tomato, nothing else. No mayo. And I was starving. Carolyn Wilson constantly told me that she was not being paid enough by the agency to feed me a lunch. Therefore, I should be grateful I was getting the bread and bologna. Yes, I aged out of foster care at a certain age, but I had saved money as my mother, Mrs. Jackson, told me to. I worked hard during high school as my mother, Mrs. Jackson, told me to. Mrs. Jackson, my second foster mother, was wonderful to me. And I survived. And I thrived. When you appreciate something because you haven't had it, it gives you enormous power. The Jackson family gave me enormous power. What evil threw away, I picked up and made something beautiful of it. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m When the World Threw Me Away | 23

My Early Adulthood

When I was with the Wilsons, I had no adult to lean on or talk to. After I left their home, and as I graduated from high school, I was very blessed to meet several older women who kind of took me under their wing. I tried to go to college right after high school, but I really wasn't mature enough. I really didn't know what to do. I knew I was aging out of foster care. I had a lot of things on my mind. It worked out because I met three women right before I started college— Mary Ann Simpson, Mary Tate, and Ann Johnson—right after high school. Mary Ann Simpson became my best friend. Her mother was Mary Simpson, and she and her husband had 18 children—all college-bound. Mary Simpson told me I could call her Ma, which just warmed my heart. That meant the world to me. Mary Ann, Mary Tate, Ann Johnson, and me—we were a foursome. And although I ended up stopping [college] after one semester, Mary Ann and I got an apartment together, and I just started working, and not going to school. My Early Adulthood P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 25

There were several other women who just kind of knew that I was in need of some guidance. Betty Thompson from Project Equality, Cecilia Estes, Ruby Snowden, just wonderful women in my life who, in little bits and pieces, gave back to me. They helped me straighten up my act when it needed to be. And then were very proud of me when I would make accomplishments. That's what I try to do for people. They don't always accept me. Not everybody wants me in their life. But when they do, I'm there. I was first married in 1968. I married the wrong man for me, but I wanted family so bad. Problem was I didn't know myself or what I needed—much more [I didn’t know] what or who he really was. I wanted to belong, and we were both too young. He just was off the chain. I tried to make it work. But after having two children right away after being married, 1969 and 1971, I immediately got a tubal ligation because I knew that I was having these children too fast and the marriage was not going to last. I knew that he was an alcoholic and into drugs and not working. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Early Adulthood | 26

I had many friends who were married, and I had a vision of what reality was. Many of the people I knew and loved who were married... mostly women, but some men as well. There were times during the marriage where somebody stepped out, or somebody did something they shouldn't have done. But it was a good marriage because they brought it back together. And it showed me you can work out things. You don't have to be perfect. You can work them out, hopefully. But that there's some things you can do that you can't take back. So you have to be, you know, try to do the right thing at all times. There probably are marriages where people are almost flawless, and they can give that example of being almost flawless. But I ain't never met none of them. I re-entered school in 1972. I started out at MATC because I was afraid that I couldn't compete with the kids who were just got out of high school. Already having two children by then slowed things down for me. The kids were the priority, so I still had to work. But I started some classes, and I was able to work at MATC as well... as student worker. I did so well, after about two years, I decided to go to UWM. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Early Adulthood | 27

I went back to UWM in about 1976 and just put it in high gear. I said, okay, “you gots to finish this degree because you ain't gonna make it doing all these secretarial jobs, half of which don't even want you because you don't look Black and you don't look white.” I was working for the school, and I was so blessed. I was in geography. I had wonderful professors at UWM who pushed me forward, who made doors open for me, who told me what to do, and I always did what I was told. They took over my life. I did everything I was told. Some of the faculty kind of took note of me, mainly Dr. Harold Rose and Dr. Joan Moore. They just took over my life and started telling me what to do, and I did exactly what they told me to do. I did the bachelor's degree basically in two and a half years. I went for my divorce in June of 1978. I finished my bachelor's degree in geography at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee on a Sunday. And the next day, that Monday, I went to divorce court and got my divorce. That Monday evening, I started my first master's course at UWM… because professors in my undergraduate program told me what to do, and I did what I was told. I did what I was told. I'm a person that follows directions when I respect somebody. And so I started my new life. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Early Adulthood | 28

I made my last name one word—Taylorboyd—as I was allowed to do that. Boyd is from my first marriage. [I stayed in Wisconsin] because I had two kids, I couldn't go anywhere else. And it ended up being a wonderful choice. Because those professors just absorbed me. I understand Milwaukee is the kind of place where you can go around and get around and figure out where places are. It used to be a very safe environment, except for Black men in particular, and Black women as well. For instance, we weren't allowed to cross the Mason-Dixon line, which was a little bit south of Wisconsin Avenue. We couldn't go to the South Side. We weren't allowed over there unless we worked. So you could go over there to work, but you must go straight there and come straight back. You couldn't stop anywhere to eat, couldn't go to any of the bars, even though your fellow workers were going to the bars. You had to come straight back. Being on the South Side was an offense you could be arrested for. So when you talk to an old-timer like me about living on the South Side, it's like, oh, hecky-poo, no. But it's different now. You can live on the South Side. Things have changed. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Early Adulthood | 29

Professor Margo Anderson organized a march downtown, a civil rights march. And we marched for about a mile or so against Chief Breier, who was the racist Milwaukee police chief for a while... and how his officers had killed Ernest Lacy, who they thought raped a white woman. When they said to the class, we're going to go protest the killing of Ernest Lacy, and we're going to do that on North 6th Street downtown, I showed up. Now, all the people in the classroom maybe didn't, but Pauli showed up because Pauli had dues to pay. It was a big march. I mean, I remember it was our class, but there were like a thousand people. It was huge. And he hadn't done it, but he looked like he did it. And when they took his body to the woman who was raped, she said, that's not who raped me. It didn't matter, and nobody got in trouble. We marched.My white professors marched my behind up and down the street. And I was proud. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Early Adulthood | 30

I have often wondered... ...how my mother and my father could actualize what they had done... thrown away somebody and never looked back. My parents never came back to me.

Audrey was my birth mother. Hugh was my birth father. They were people who were revered in their own environments, but they were the coldest people. And so people who know a little bit of my story start to feel sorry for me. I said, don't feel sorry for me. God knew what she was doing. I wouldn't want to be raised by those people. Audrey and Hugh were atheists and always had us call them by their first name. We never called them mother and father. Audrey and Hugh P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 32

I saw my father maybe three times. At one point, he invited me and my two sons to California. He lived in Pebble Beach. And, another time he and his wife had moved from Pebble Beach to Henderson, Nevada. He moved right before his birthday. And I know that moving is a lot. So I called and I said, “are you busy at ten o'clock on Saturday, such and such a date? I want to have something delivered to your home.” And he said, ‘oh, no, no, we'll be here. We'll be here. I'm so excited.’ The present was that my husband, Leo, and I went to Henderson, Nevada, got into a hotel, rented a car, and we were going to visit him to help him put away all of the stuff... all of the moving, all the furniture. And we couldn't find the house. Come to find out, even the police department couldn't help us find it because they said it was an unregistered street. So, I called and I said, “well, I wanted to surprise you, but we can't find the street. Can you help us out? The surprise actually was we were coming to help you put your stuff up.” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 33

And he said, ‘you can't come here without letting me know. You, you can't do that.’ His wife got on the phone and she cursed and everything. And then when he finished, I said, “let me tell you something: this is it. You'll never see me again. You'll never talk to me again. I'm done.” I believe he died in 2003, and this must have been around 1999. And he said, ‘well, Pauli, you can come to the family reunion.’ And I said, “what family reunion?” And he said, ‘oh, well, somebody will call you.’ And I said, “no, they don't call me. I'm done.” When I got divorced from my first husband in 1978, I had no car. I needed some help. I asked him for help. And he, on the phone, told me that he would never in life help a woman leave a man and I would be better off. My father said you will be better off in life if you do things for yourself. And I, I accepted it and I said, okay. I said, well, to myself, don't ever ask him for anything. We never got close. My parents never apologized or talked about it. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 34

I've often wondered how my parents, in all their wealth— my father went on to become, I believe, the manager of the city of Oakland, California... I'm told that [my father] had a child outside of his marriage to his last wife. But I don't know anything about the child. Nobody would tell me anything. And of course, my mother was just the wife of a wealthy, wealthy man. They had houses all over. I understand they had a house in Spain, they had a house in Miami, and they had their grand home in Costa Rica. ...how my mother and my father could actualize what they had done, thrown away somebody and never looked back. My parents never came back to me. They never did anything for me. My mother had five children. Me, then two boys and then two more girls. And my mother's focus was on the two daughters she had by her new husband. I have two sisters I've never met. I heard they lived in Spain, but I don't know. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 35

My two brothers stayed with Audrey. They didn't go to college, [though] they could have gone to any college they wanted to because they were rich. They said that the stepfather wasn't easy. He really didn't like them. They benefited financially. Neither brother has ever said anything about growing up without me around. They had always been with their mother and her husband, but just said it wasn't easy. When each of the boys was 14, Audrey shipped each one from Costa Rica to be with our father, who put them in boarding schools: Pebble Beach boarding school, and then a boarding school in Canada. And that's where they graduated from high school. While I have no contact with any of my original family, I am very happy that my youngest brother, Benji, reached out to me recently and wants to establish a relationship. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 36

I saw my mother one time when I was 18, and she told me that the reason she sent me away was that her new husband—Mario Urbina—said he would only take two of her children, not three. He left it up to her which one to send away. She chose me because she felt that I would take on Negro features as I grew older. She said she chose to keep the two boys because she could keep their hair short and hide their ethnicity. But she said that with me, she was told that Negro girls who are light-skinned get darker when they get older, and nobody in her new life must ever know that I was Black. Last communication I had with my birth mother was in 1978 when I didn't have a car and I was getting a divorce. And she just wrote and told me, because I never had an address for her. I only had a P.O. Box in Costa Rica, Apartamento 22. I never had a phone number. But the last time that she wrote me, she said that she couldn't ever help me because she helped my brothers. Never heard from her again. And then she died in about 2009. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 37

When I was in my later teen years, I was told by one of her relatives in Milwaukee that my mother had actually written people in her family and told them that I was a drug addict and don't ever contact me. And most of them didn't, but a few did. One woman, about two years ago, drove all the way from Oklahoma, by herself, to come and meet me. It was very nice. Yes, very nice. Very refreshing. I believe she was a cousin. She was older than myself. And, you know, I'm an old lady, but she was older than myself. Through 23andMe, I met my only Black relative. Only one. And she's a delightful child. She's going to college out east in the HBCU. She was born in Congo. Her mother adopted her when she was 4. And her mother got on 23andMe and started searching for relatives, and she called me one day and said, Pauli, I've had my daughter on 23andMe, and your name came up as the highest percentage. And I grabbed it. I grabbed it. And I have been with that child ever since. She is now, I think, 20 years old, and it's a blessing. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 38

Blessings are out there if you open your heart and you take that step. But I don't know, so many people can't do that. And that's what I try to do is I help— try to help people to take that step. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Audrey and Hugh | 39

Light Skin

I was thinking about some of my experiences of being a lighter-skinned person. It took me a while to grasp what that meant. But I remember as a child, I was probably about 10, riding this Milwaukee County bus system, and one day two Black kids were ahead of me, and the bus driver scrutinized their transfers to make sure that they weren't cheating. And when I got to him, I handed him my transfer and he looked away. So I said, whoa… those kids are really being treated differently than me. And I realized it was because I looked white. But then, as I grew older, I also found out about the other side. As things started to break, and Black folks started to be able to get jobs in different major plants and organizations, I remember being sent to the Philip Morris Corporation to apply for a secretary's job at the front desk. Light Skin P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 41

The Social Development Commission’s employment division sent me there. They had been asked for an African American secretary. They said, me! And they were all excited. And when I got there, the vice president of Philip Morris said, ‘we can't hire you.’ And I said, “why?” He didn't even look at my credentials. He said, ‘we need a Black person sitting at this desk so everyone thinks that we're integrated.’ And I said, “I'm Black.” He said, ‘yeah, but nobody can tell.’ The school I went to [Wauwatosa West], I was the only Black person there. As a matter of fact, the Civics teacher, when I was sitting in his class, when he went over slavery, he said, ‘well, all I can say about slavery is that the ni**ers had it really good because the whites took care of them.’ And I just froze in the seat. I froze in the seat. And a kid behind me said to another kid, ‘isn't she a ni**er?’ And the other kid said, ‘no, she's just tan.’ I went home to the Wilsons and told them what happened, and they removed me from the classroom the next day. The school never said anything to me. The school never asked me any questions. The teacher taught on, and kept his job. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Light Skin | 42

When I was a teenager, I started taking modeling classes with a Black organization, I forgot the name of it, I'm sorry to say, but the woman who ran it was very well known. I also applied to Rosemary Bishop Modeling School where I took lessons, and I thought I was having a good day. Then, when I got through with all the lessons, I went into the office to check to see about them hiring me out. And the agency representative said, ‘well, I'm sorry, Pauli, but we generally only have calls for white models. And I can look at you and tell that you're not all white. And when we have calls for a Black model, you don't look Black enough. And that's what they want.’ I said, okay. Photo: My modeling comp card. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Light Skin | 43

P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Photo: posing for one of my modeling images Light Skin As God would have it, maybe about 12 years ago, one of my students who lived and worked in South Africa contacted me by Facebook and said, Pauli, I found this article on you. It's in the Milwaukee Journal. He was just fascinated by that article. He sent it to me. Rosemary Bishop said she was very sorry for having told Pauli Taylor that she was too dark to be hired as a white model, and we're sorry for what we did to her. | 44

She never said it to me directly, but she said it publicly. That's more valuable. That's far more valuable. Because by that time, I wasn't trying to model or anything, but other people could read into it. So I acknowledge that people who are brown-skinned have always received more flak from society than I have. And sometimes I would receive a lot of flak from other African Americans. ‘Oh, you think you're cute. You think you're better. You think you're smarter just because you're light-skinned.’ And when they would say those things, I wouldn't say a thing. I would just look at them very stoically. What racism threw away, life picked up and made me who I am. In time, some of them came around. But that was their burden, not mine. And I just hoped that they would get over it, because we need to be strong together, not strong apart. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Light Skin | 45

Stoic Skill

Now, I'm not religious. So I'm not trying to act like I'm religious. I don't go to church, but that's the way God made me. I don't know how I had it when I was a child. But I know that it worked. I know that when I lived in the awful foster home, Carolyn Wilson was the mother figure. She would take me aside sometimes as a little child, 9, 10 years old, and say, ‘I just want you to know how much I hate you. You're so ugly.’ The first time she did it, I think I walked away and cried a little bit. The second time she did it, I looked her dead in the eye, and through my eyes, as a child, I called her every name in the book. But through my lips, I said nothing. She started screaming, and called for her husband. He said, ‘what's the matter? What's the matter?’ [She said], ‘she's staring at me.’ Mr. Wilson said to her, ‘Carolyn, come to bed. You're being ridiculous.’ And I knew I had a tool. She never did it again, I'll tell you that. Stoic Skill P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 47

The stare has helped me many times. Years later, a kid walking from MATC at night down a dark street—not really far, but far enough. He kept walking closer and closer behind me. I turned around on a dime where he was just a couple feet from me, and I stared him in the eye like I stared her in the eye. I didn't have a weapon on me. I had no choice. I was trying not to be a victim. And I took a step forward towards him, and that man screamed and hollered and ran away and hid behind the car. My look. I got it down to a T. I rarely use it, but I have it. And it speaks far more loudly than the person that just hollers and screams and curses and tries to berate another. To know that it's in my back pocket if I need it—and I rarely, rarely need it. And it's not anything that hurts anybody. It scares them. It doesn't hurt them. But when I get really pissed off, I'm quiet. I really have to send messages from my heart to the look. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Stoic Skill | 48

I'm not going to give away my soul to anger. We all have buttons, buttons on our soul. I have no anger button, and that saved me a million times. I have no anger button on me. I can't do what other people can do. I can't go into a rage. I don't know how. I also, on the other hand, have no enthusiasm button. So that when you say, ‘Pauli, you've won a thousand dollars,’ the best I can do is say, “oh, that's so very nice. Thank you very much.” Whereas if we turn on to Let's Make a Deal, they're hollering and shouting and jumping up and down. I can't do that. I can't experience the over-the-top emotions like that. It's good... when somebody is angry at me for one reason or the other. It pains me that so many young people are out there trying to scream and holler their way through life. Calling each other horrible names. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Stoic Skill | 49

I had another incident where a man came into my classroom and said, ‘I want to speak to Susie.’ And I just saw this woman in the classroom shake her head no. And I said, “I'm sorry, you'll have to wait until the class is over.” And he left. I thought he was gone. Then he came back, and he walked right past me and walked up to this woman and said something like, ‘get your shit.’ And I looked at the men who were sitting near her, and I looked at them in their eye like, you'd better have my back. And I walked between him and the woman, and I said, “get the fuck out of my class. And gave him the look. He got the fuck out of the class.” Now, in those days, they didn't have telephones in the room, and we didn't have cell phones. So, I waited a while, and I rushed to the corner of the hallway and called security. They came up, but they were unconcerned. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Stoic Skill | 50

I took the woman home, and we never saw her again. So I have no idea what happened to her. But that's how our systems fail us. They didn't interview her to see who it was, where he lived, his phone number, or anything. I've done it a few more times, but I haven't had to do it much. I did it one time when I was working at the School Sisters of Notre Dame who were doing a Head Start program. It was probably 1966, and they told me to go to the grocery store to get some stamps. It was the middle of the day and the store was about three blocks away. So I took the twenty dollars, or whatever they gave me, and went and got the stamps, and I was walking back when this car pulls over quickly. There were some young people in it, a man and two women. And one woman gets out of the car, grinning and walking towards me too aggressively. I kept walking towards her and I gave her the look. I stared in her eyes. She started screaming and ran back to the car. ‘I can't, I can't do it. I can't do it. She's not scared. She's not scared. I can't do that.’ I was getting ready to be robbed and probably punched, you know, because I can't fight. I'm not gonna lie. I can't fight. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Stoic Skill | 51

Love and Survival Skills

I was in a household where I received no love, but I got tremendous tools and survival tools. I'm the type of push person that when I have something to do and I don't feel well, I push my way through it anyway. I push myself and push myself because that's what I had to do. I think love was always in my heart. I think the fact that when my father would drop me off, the homes that he did drop me off at, I did get love. And I didn't have to because they were just either friends of his or people that he had heard would take in a child. And they were really good to me. So I knew it was out there. I knew love was out there. I just knew I didn't have it in the home with the Wilsons for the eight years that I was there. But then when I went to the Jacksons for my senior year in high school, the love just came rushing out of them towards me. And to this day, I still have my brother, Melvin, from that family. I still have my sister, Gail, and I still have my sister, Dory. And I have all my cousins from that family. That's my family. Those are the people that know me and love me and accept me. Love and Survival Skills P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 53

There is nobody in my birth family that qualifies. I knew nice was out there. I just knew that I wasn't born into it. But I refused to let people who were unkind to me define me. Maybe I didn't know all the right things to do, but I sure as hell knew the wrong things. I don't let anybody drive my bus. But you know, there are a lot of children who are misplaced. A lot of children who were placed in homes where they were sex trafficked, abused, or just neglected. So I was blessed. But [even with these special connections], I share my story with nobody. I volunteer nothing. One of the reasons I don't ever talk about myself is that when you don't talk about yourself, people don't ask you questions too much. People never ask me about my parents. I've kept this to myself, really, all my life—not because of shame and not because of fear. But because I knew other people wouldn't understand what an engine these things were for me to push me forward. And I didn't want to spend time with them feeling sorry for me. I don't want sorrow. Don't ever feel sorry for me because I triumphed. Even Leo doesn't know my story. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Love and Survival Skills | 54

Leo | 55

Leo and I started dating in 1994. We got married in 2012. And we do pretty good with each other, I must say. We do pretty good. I'm a more patient person than he is. But he's very strong. He's always trying to do the right thing. And that's very important. I have a wonderful husband. I did not change my last name to Harper because I was still teaching. And the whole gig about teaching college is they look for your name. Other students tell who to take—they wouldn't know who Harper was. Most marriages that I knew of, in time, I found were flawed. But the difference is some people were able to work around those flaws. I absolutely do not know of any unflawed marriage. So I didn't go into my second marriage expecting that. I think sometimes when we're very young, we do see ourselves rising into the sunshine and it will never set. But, pardon my expression, shit happens. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Leo | 56

We call him Little Leo. Little Leo is his DJ name. He's a DJ in his own mind. He is a retired battalion chief for the Milwaukee Fire Department. He volunteers at the VA. He has one sister. He and his sister are so close. I'm amazed at how close they are, and I admire that. She’s a wonderful person—very protective of him. He said when he got in trouble and their mother was going to spank him, the sister said, ‘no, spank me instead. Don't you hit my brother.’ He is dedicated to his history. He’s dedicated to his family all the way back to his grandmothers, and of course his parents, his sister and his children. His family is one of the things he cherished. He also cherishes veterans. He is a Navy veteran who served in Vietnam. He came home to boos and no cheers, but still loved his Navy—always remembering his experiences and his guys. He studied police and fire science at MATC and became a police officer for four years with Milwaukee and then a firefighter for thirty-some years. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Leo | 57

P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m I'm very proud that he is one of the founding members of the Milwaukee Fire Department Honor Guard. The Honor Guard goes to the funeral of firefighters and goes to public events and they show the colors and they have a routine where they march around and do certain things. And he does that even though he's retired. He does that regularly. He's someone they can count on. He has his passions. He loves old cars, mainly because his father worked at American Motors. He has some American Motor cars and he goes to car shows. And he has his little car group. He's a good friend to his buddies. Leo | 58

He's been quite patient with me. You know, as we get older, it's not easy, and little twerky things pop up. My eyesight causes me to depend on him some, and sometimes I have blood pressure issues and I get kind of scared and I depend on him. And he's there. He didn't want to do this, but last year, some people from Milwaukee City Hall and the local TV station were gonna put him on TV for his Black History Museum in the basement. He's very shy. And he’s not just shy, but he’s extremely modest. They were just amazed. He has a Green Book, which very few people have nowadays. He had things from his grandmother and her rooming house, old fire department equipment and pictures, pictures of African Americans in the Navy with him, pictures of all the different houses he was at for the fire department. So it was really nice. I was just very proud of the kind of person he is. Those are things that he has done on his own, and I'm very proud of that. I am very proud of Leo. He's a wonderful person and I have the best for last. So it's good to have the best for last. It really is. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Leo | 59

My Student- Children- Family

When you teach you are the person in charge. You cannot solicit people to be in your circle. They have to solicit you. I have my doors wide open. I don't share my experience, but I share my heart. Being with students—who have some of the same issues— is the greatest joy of my life. I open my door enough so that they feel comfortable talking to me, without revealing my whole story, because it wasn't about me. Teaching Black Reality: What It Means to Be Black in America changed my life. It was the biggest blessing to me as the first course I ever taught. And it was the course that every other school wanted. I would work at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, my regular job. But on the lunch hour, I was at the Milwaukee School of Engineering to teach a course. Monday night was Marquette. Tuesday and Thursday was MATC. Two other days were online UWM. And sometimes I'd have more classes than I would have days. But, God was good to me. She was very good. My Student-Children-Family P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 61

I remember one time I was teaching a class at the University of Wisconsin- Milwaukee, a young man came up to my office and said, ‘I just hope you have a few minutes. I want to talk to you.’ I said, “sure I do. Come on in.” He did. He said, ‘I suffer from anxiety disorder, and sometimes I really have a hard time.’ He was telling me everything. I said, “well, funny you should say that. I have a little anxiety disorder myself.” He said, ‘really?’ I said, “yeah.” He said, ‘well, what do you do?’ And I told him what I did and how I worked around it and how I felt about it. He was talking about medications and I told him to be careful. It may not work out in the long run. You know, you get kind of hooked on those. We talked about strategies. He was looking to be accepted. He did fine in class. I hope that he did fine in life. I retired from teaching in 2012. I have a few students who have stayed with me for life. They don’t know my story. They know my door is open. Those are gifts in life that if you just walk around being a nice person with your doors shut, you still don't get those. All I'm about is creating family with other people so that they can use me if they need to, to help them. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Student-Children-Family | 62

People come into your universe for a reason. Sometimes they flee away and move on. And sometimes people you think are there for you, and are closest to you, still draw a blank when you reach out for help. Sometimes there are people who come in and out of your life because maybe they live in a different state, maybe in a different country, but you still can see them sometimes and talk to them. Sometimes they're the very person that can open your eyes and help you figure out where you are. And you, in turn, can then help them. But you have to be open. And one of the things that I always try to do in my classes is be open. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Student-Children-Family | 63

What really puts a smile on my face is when I'm coming out of a medical center that I've never been to before, walking through the parking lot, and a woman runs up to me and says, ‘Pauli, Pauli, Pauli.’ And I look that way and don't see too well. And I say, oh boy, I'm going to have to fake this one. And she says, this is so-and-so. And I say, okay. And she said, ‘I had you about 25 years ago at such-and-such a college. You made such a difference in my life.’ And then I realized remembering her name wasn't important. What was important was remembering that I did a good job. And that somebody in that class was like me in some way, sitting there in pain, and something that I did or said in the course of the time we were together gave him comfort and direction. I have never felt sorry for myself, even when I was going through my trauma as a child. I sometimes was very sad, but I always knew I would come out of it. And I always knew that the world was not as bad as where I was sitting. I tried to get that across to my students. Because some of them are hurting. Maybe they're hurting because their parents, because of their spouse, because of their kids, because of their job, anything. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Student-Children-Family | 64

And all of my students didn't rise to the greatest height, but they raised themselves to the height they wanted to be, where they could be. And I'm proud of them as the people that they are. They don't bring you any money. They don't bring you any fame. They don't bring you any recognition. They warm your heart, and they let you know that you did something right. What really is heartwarming is when I'm out and about at a store and somebody comes up and says, ‘you don't remember me, but I had you at MATC. And one day you opened up about some things and you don't realize how you helped me because I was going through a lot.’ At MATC, I would notice that especially with the women, sometimes they look like they were so sad. And I would get to class early, so I'd see them sitting in the seat kind of with their head down. And so I would take a chance. I would say to them, as class started and everyone was there, I would say, “you know, I realize you guys all look at me and think I have it all going on. Well, you don't understand. So many years back, I was sitting in your chair. At MATC, in a bad marriage, trying to figure out how to take P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Student-Children-Family | 65

care of these kids, trying to find a job.” That's what I used to tell some of my students, especially at MATC where the student population was older and usually less economically advantaged. “I just need to let you know that at one point I didn't have enough to eat. At one point I didn't know how I was going to take care of my children. At one point I had nobody to help me, but I made it. And sometimes in romance world, men would leave me just as they started seeing me. And I would be so hurt because I thought we had a chance. But I realized that those men were doing me a favor. Every time somebody leaves me, they're doing me a favor. And it was okay.” And then I saw them kind of perk up and sit up a little bit. And then I went on talking about sociology. That's the way I do. Because I had nothing to lose. And they might have something to gain. And those were the people who would run into me ten years later or so and say, ‘I remember you. You made me feel better.’ And I said, “good.” P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m My Student-Children-Family | 66

Speaking somewhere at UWM. Date unknown. Photo is from Alicia’s personal album. A gift to Alicia from Pauli sometime in the late 1990s.

Staying in Wisconsin was the best choice for me. A couple of years ago, my friend Eloisa Gomez, who was in the Office of Hispanic Student Services, told me that all the workers from the different offices— Black Student Services, Asian Student Services, Hispanic Student Services, and Indian Student Services— got together and they all had a discussion about what is Pauli. They couldn't figure it out. And some were saying, ‘well, she's Latina.’ And some were saying, ‘no, she's Black. No, she's white. No, she's this.’ I said, well, “all of you could have had a little piece of me. I'm a Mexican citizen. I'm part Southeast Asian, which is probably American Indian because my father's family came out of slavery. And Indigenous people in the United States came from Southeast Asia. And then I'm white. So whatever you want, what's the flavor of the day? Black, white, Southeast Asian American, Indian, or Latino? What you want?” She just laughed. But I felt I was in a good place. And I stayed. And as I stayed, I moved up. I met wonderful people, had wonderful experiences, and just moved through the system very quickly. I then got hired as an administrator— Director of Minority Student Affairs. Why Wisconsin? P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 68

But after I got there in about 1981 or '82 as a professional, they came downstairs and asked me to start teaching. And I said, sure, I'd be glad to. I've never done it before. They said, it doesn't matter. Just go find the book and then do this and do that, and you can just start in about so many weeks. I said, okay. Well, it was only a couple of days later, MATC called me and said, Pauli, we need you to teach two courses over here in sociology. Can you do it? Yeah, yeah, I can do that. But I can't do it on Tuesday and Thursday. I can do it on these other days. And they said, no problem. And then after I taught there for a while, MSOE said, hey, can we have you on the lunch hour to teach that course you teach over there? I said, that'll be a good idea. And I asked my supervisor. He said yes. And then Marquette called and said, you were referred to us by a Dr. Michael Smith who's leaving. And he said you would be a good person to teach that course on Monday nights. Are you available Monday nights? I said, yes, I am. And I did that for thirty years. That doesn't even include Cardinal Stritch and Concordia University, where I also taught. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Why Wisconsin? | 69

The schools outside of UWM and Marquette had very different ways of teaching. Sometimes I could teach a whole course in four weeks. Sometimes I could teach online when UWM wouldn't do that. Sometimes I taught by correspondence because the people were in prison. And I couldn't see them and they couldn't see me. So it was a rich, blessed situation that made up for all the pain and hurt that I suffered. But it was a lifestyle that let me know that there is a God and that God was with me and that I am blessed to be able to sense the presence of God. And that being with God doesn't mean sitting and singing hymns and absorbing what somebody else interprets from the Bible, but it's just being the best you you can be. And when you run into opportunities where people have fallen and nobody else is looking and you help them up, that's what's important. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Why Wisconsin? | 70

Happy

When I tell people that my vision is impaired, they say, oh, I'm so sorry. I say, “don't be sorry for me... don't be sorry for me... when you get to be my age, it's gonna be something... don't be sorry for me... don't waste your breath on that.” I refused to be sucked into that lifestyle. You know, you can't let the funk get you down no matter how bad it gets. I have felt happiness many times. I felt happiness when my best friend at UWM, Jim Hill, who was Dean of Student Affairs, came to me one day and he said, ‘Pauli, I found this in the garbage can. The U.S. Information Agency is looking for proposals for teams to go to South Africa to do training. And I think it's a great thing, but guess what? There's only a two- week notice and nobody wants to do it. And the only person I could think of that would do it is you.’ He gave it to me. I read it. It wasn't even twenty-four hours. I put together a team. We wrote the proposal. It's a process throughout the university where you put it in and then the university sends it on. Happy P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 72

There were only two proposals that year, a man who had been told he would get it for sure (and that's why they gave the rest of us only two weeks to do it), and us. And we won. They said the reason we won and not the other guy is that he only had himself down as his team, but I had my supervisor down, I had the Dean of Students down, I had a student involved with us to help us do the training with the students. You see, we got a group of people. So for three years, I was able to go back and forth to South Africa to work for Nelson Mandela. I never got to meet him, but he wanted the team I put together to work in the HBCUs in South Africa to help students learn negotiation and mediation skills. 1994, 1995, and 1996, back and forth. And then we brought forty-some South African students to Milwaukee, put them up in the dorms, because we had the grant funding, took them to Atlanta to HBCUs there, took them to DC, UWM, and introduced them to Milwaukee. It was the crowning jewel in my life. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Happy | 73

I've been happy many times. Long periods of sadness doesn't mean that sometimes something simple like going ice skating and having somebody just talk to me—because I went for years without having friends or friends at school. I was invisible. So when I wasn't invisible, I got happy. I want people to understand that for the bad things that happened to me, which are not normally things that happen to people— I don't know of anybody else that walked into their family den on Christmas morning and sat in a chair and [was] just told to clean up, you know? And I always realized nothing since then has angered me more. But that it's okay. They weren't good people anyway. They didn't have the ability to do the right thing. And once I was released from their home, I flourished. I fooled them all. For every pain that I had, something better came of it. When life gives you hate start building your temple of better. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Happy | 74

Finding Sisterhood

Finding Sisterhood P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m I have been a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority for more than thirty years. And I got to know a group of women I never would have otherwise gotten to know. My best friend, Florence Dukes, is the reason I joined the organization. She is also the reason I became a member of the Cream City Links, the Milwaukee chapter of another national service organization of women who care about other people and want to make a difference in their community. | 76

My involvement in both, as well as in Girlfriends, all counteract the harms of my upbringing. Because I must always remember where I came from, as I am able, I go down to Repairers of the Breach, a shelter in Milwaukee for the unhoused. I'm known there by the staff because I'm a donor. I like to just go sit in the general population. But for the grace of God go I. Nobody understands this better than me. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Finding Sisterhood | 77

H A R MH A R MH A R MH A R M Taught Me Lessons4 | 78

Lesson 1 Recovery gives you strength and power. In life, when things go terribly wrong, when you may be under pressure or very sad, learn that the recovery from these incidences gives you strength and power to deal better with future sadness. Period. That's how my life went. As bad as my childhood was, I never spoke of it to anybody. But every time the goings got tough, I just pushed through with a positive attitude that things would be okay, and that I might have to change up, I might have to do things differently, but I would be okay. I think it's almost a natural reflex. I think the first time you're devastated. It's foreign, and you feel you're going to fall apart and things will never be the same. Once you recover, once you figure it out, once you do things differently, if ever you fall down again, you know that you can get up. You may have to get up differently, but you know that you can get up. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 79

Lesson 2 Kindness is the best frame for most people to be in. Keep kindness in your eyes. Kindness is almost always the best frame for most people to be in. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 80

Lesson 3 Vacate toxicity. Get the hell out. When you're in a toxic relationship or you're confronted with a toxic person, you must leave. You must vacate because you can't change the person and nothing good will come of the relationship. But sometimes when people are unkind to you, it's because they're going through something or they're afraid, or they're in pain. And just being quiet, just looking at them with kindness in your eyes, might be able to open some doors and may lead to a wonderful friendship. I have learned in my life, beginning with the Wilsons, continuing with my first/ex-husband, that some people just are not going to be good for you, and you need to leave. When you look at those people in hindsight, you see dysfunction. And you realize that whatever they were going through, they didn't need you to help them. But you needed to get out because you needed to help yourself. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 81

P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m Lesson 4 God knows what She is doing. It is a sense of pride to remember where you came from. Even if it wasn't pleasant, remembering that I came from a world with no love, [but with] cruelty and ignorance, helped me to build my life paying attention to those ways that hurt me, so that I would not hurt others. Though it sounds strange, going through bad times can be a good thing in the end. | 82

Acknowledgment I am grateful beyond words for Alicia stepping in to write my story. I never dreamed that this would happen. I first met her when she appeared in my Black Reality class. Her little head was bopping up and down with a big smile on it midway through the class perhaps in the fourth row. As with all students, she had access to my cell phone number. I made sure that all students had it. As the years went by, I would hear from her sometimes. She would appear on my lawn, always happy. Though I know everything in her life was not happy all the time. I'm so proud of her PhD, of her work history, and the woman that she has turned out to be. We agreed that though I spoke this text she would be the author because she had to do the tweaks the rereads and all of the work. Thank you, Dr. Haywood. May God bless us by always being in each other's lives. P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m | 83

P a u l i T a y l o r B o y d . c o m A Note from Alicia When I met Pauli in the fall of 1994, I could tell from the first instant that everything about her was something to be studied and absorbed. Her manner of speaking, the way she walked, the depths of her teachings, her extraordinary way of being. For me, she has always been a magical nurturing enigma. And as a professor-motherfigure-mentor, she has always had the presence of a legend. Walking with her through this process of giving light to what she’s kept concealed her entire life has reoriented me. What a gift. Photo: Pauli reading a poem at my wedding, July 2, 2000. Milwaukee. | 84

Editor’s Note: Pauli’s narrative was captured over four recorded sessions between August and October 2026. Additional details from countless phone conversations, text messages, and an in- person home visit, further developed the story she wanted to tell. Because Pauli is now legally blind, her husband, Leo, helped with getting her set up for recordings, and by receiving emails with drafts to share with her throughout the edit process. Minor edits addressed clarity and readability without interfering with Pauli’s recollections or her voice. All images, with four exceptions, were provided by Pauli. The cover image was taken during the home visit on August 30, 2026. The image of Pauli at Alicia’s wedding was taken by wedding photographer Emad Asfoury. The image of a frog in the background of page 3, as well as the final image of the frog wearing a pink necklace (a specific request of Pauli’s), were generated by Canva AI. | 85

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