On June 20, 1942, a twenty-two-year-old African American woman in Washington, DC, raised her right hand and solemnly swore to defend the U.S. Constitution against all foreign and domestic enemies. Fresh off a segregated train from Little Rock, Arkansas, she affirmed that she had no affiliation with any political party or organization promoting the overthrow of the government by force or violence. As part of her oath of office at the War Department during World War II, she promised not to reveal confidential documents to any unauthorized person. It was only last year that a genealogy search revealed that this remarkable woman was my own mother.
While my 75-year-old mother entered Tiny Tot’s payroll into her computer, I learned about her life before children, from dancing at the Savoy Ballroom to rushing to visit New York City before a rumored bomb attack. Her mention of 'working various government jobs' during my father's overseas service ignited my interest to dig deeper.
Until that point, I had only known about my father's contributions during the Second World War. Every Veterans Day, I proudly honor his service by sharing on social media the pictures of him in uniform that were prominently displayed in my childhood home. In one photo, my father is standing at attention in the snow, wearing his decorated olive army uniform and garrison side cap. In another, captured during his furlough in Bear Mountain, New York, he sports a white uniform and service cap while seated on the grass in front of my mother. My father was deployed overseas ten months after that photo was taken. When I stumbled upon my mother’s thick folder from the War Department, I discovered she was serving her country back home while my father fought overseas. I wondered why she had never revealed her own patriotic past to me or my siblings.
Little did I know that a decade before becoming a Black female entrepreneur, my mother had played an integral role supporting the war effort.
What I did know about my parents was already an incredible story. They were high school sweethearts who grew up in the Jim Crow South before graduating together from Dunbar Junior College. While my father went on to attend Prairie View College in Texas, my mother stayed in Little Rock and became a probation officer at the Colored Juvenile Court. In 1941, they married, but my father was drafted before they could celebrate their first anniversary. After his honorable discharge four years later, they moved to St. Louis, Missouri and started a family.
Fresh off a segregated train from Little Rock, Arkansas, she affirmed that she had no affiliation with any organization promoting the overthrow of the government. As part of her oath of office, she promised not to reveal confidential documents.
In 1950, my father convinced my mother to quit her job to raise their two- and three-year-old sons. It later dawned on me that it was the very job at the War Department for which she held a high security clearance. At the time, however, my father was upset that his wife's salary surpassed his own at the post office. Undaunted, she enlisted four neighborhood children to join her two toddlers and turned childcare into a thriving business called Tiny Tot Nursery School. A year after starting the daycare, her first daughter was born. However, it would be another seven years before the unexpected arrival of the favorite child of the family (yes, me). While managing her childcare enterprise, my mother also served on non-profit boards of directors, including Jack and Jill of America as National Treasurer. Little did I know that a decade before becoming a Black female entrepreneur, my mother had played an integral role supporting the war effort.
I discovered her signed and notarized affidavit, pledging to safeguard military information or face the penalty of death or imprisonment as dictated by the Espionage Act.