Sydney Poitier is Dead. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner Now?

An excerpt from my memoir - Choiceless: A Birthmother’s Story of Love, Loss, and Reunion

“It was 1970, and an out-of-wedlock pregnancy was still considered socially shameful. The Civil Rights movement was in full force. The lawful integration of public schools was in its infancy stage. Black families were cautiously moving into white, urban neighborhoods.

And, I fell in love with a young man who was African American; I fell in love with a young man who was the “wrong” color. I innocently gave myself to him and became pregnant before everyone else thought that I should. I dared to stand my ground, insisting on giving my child the gift of life rather than to seek an abortion. As the saga played out, those were the last real choices I was allowed to make.”

Recently I reunited with a reader who I knew at the Salvation Army Booth Memorial Hospital in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. Phyllis and I both arrived at the home in September of 1970. Through exchanged emails, Phyllis is sharing her recently unmasked feelings and reflections. She has given me permission to publish them here:

Sydney Poitier is dead. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner Now

In the late 60’s white girls didn’t dare fall in love with a black man. For sure they should not consider marrying a black man. And, under no circumstances should they get pregnant by a black man.

In 1967, Sidney Poitier, Katherine Houghton, Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy shined a bright light on the race mixing issue with the movie Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. The film is revered today, but not well received then — except by those who realized that the true measure of a person is based on character and actions. By 1970, not much had changed in middle America. Love was only love if you were marrying — but, certainly not between races. The liberal pretense of social acceptance of differences proved to be a false, family value if your daughter was the white girl. Suddenly prejudice was justified, based on the flimsy excuse of parental concern and protection.

While unmarried girls who got in a ‘family way” were treated like pariahs of the worst sort, girls who had the audacity to love and appreciate the attributes of a man regardless of the color of his skin were ostracized and treated with disrespect by both sides of the issue. Consequently, the young woman who faced the decision to surrender her bastard child to a better situation and future, was also forced to realize that her beloved infant was saddled with the additional burden of limited acceptance of a mixed race heritage. As terrible as any first mother’s decision, the extra awareness of racial prejudice was an unbearable strain — not easily understood in 2022.

My decision to surrender my child for adoption under constant coercion and manipulation by family, friends, and well-organized social systems was more difficult than I can convey to a society unused to the concept. But, the women faced with those additional burdens have my eternal admiration and respect.

I hope their children will one day come for dinner.

Thank you, Phyllis.