'This is what time it is' By MATT KAPKO Half Moon Bay Review February 2, 2005 When Paul Atkins came to this world in 1937 he didn't know what time it was. He couldn't possibly know the struggles he would face, the violence he would overcome and the constant battles he would have to fight as a black man. "I had no conception of prejudice or hatred at that age," he said. There was plenty to learn. This month - national Black History Month - Atkins recalls the past with an eye to the future. If it's true that much has changed in this country, it is equally true that much remains the same. There are still very few black faces on the Coastside. Elsewhere on the Peninsula black residents have complained of racial profiling by police and more subtle forms of racism extend from sea to shining sea. Atkins vividly recalls where it all began for him, when the anger took hold. It was Aug. 28, 1955, and a 14-year-old black boy named Emmett Till, was kidnapped, beat, shot in the head, and dumped in the Tallahatchie River near Money, Miss. "That was more or less the beginning of everything in my life," Atkins said. Till's murder caught international attention and is recognized as one of the first incidents to spark the civil rights movement. "That was the match that started the bonfire," Atkins said. "That was a cry that was heard across the country." The cry reached San Francisco fast. Atkins and a friend decided to leave California behind and headed south to join the movement. "We were going to kill everyone we could," Atkins said. "That gave us a purpose and a destination. We were angry young men." But Atkins never gave into his violent tendencies. He became inspired by the Freedom Riders and their commitment to challenge Jim Crow laws in southern states through nonviolent civil disobedience. He began working to register black voters and unionize workers, but the response wasn't exactly what he expected. "The people we were helping didn't want that. They were telling us 'we don't want no trouble,'" he said. "We know they know what time it is. It was a fight that wasn't easily won ... it was extremely hard." Atkins is hopeful for the future. "My God, there's been a lot of progress made. We've come a long way. We still got a long way to go, but it's not as far away as yesterday," he said. "The battles we fought yesterday we're not fighting that today." Today Atkins is retired and living in Lesley Gardens in Half Moon Bay. As a result, he said he feels somewhat disconnected from these issues now while living on the relatively homogenous coast. But the past is never far behind - Atkins said he carries it with him everywhere he goes. "I can't get away from it. I can run but I can't hide," he said. "I look back now and I see this is where I'm supposed to be. This is me. This is what time it is." It is hard to get a handle on the black population in San Mateo County. Census figures show 3.5 percent of the county's nearly 700,000 inhabitants are black, while reporting that Half Moon Bay actually has a greater percentage of black residents - 3.9 percent. The census lists 32 black people living in El Granada, 30 in Montara, 463 in Half Moon Bay, and 571 in the broad South Coast lands. But even the most casual observer would take a jaundiced look at those figures. It's tough to convince residents that the Coastside is more ethnically diverse than the rest of the more urbanized county. After all, the census only lists two black people in Moss Beach and there's more than that living in one household. "I feel welcome here," said Camille Boysaw, a sophomore at Half Moon Bay High School and an intern at the Half Moon Bay Review. "Sometimes it feels weird how there's more white people in the population than black people. Sometimes it's kind of intimidating," she said. She said it's hard to believe the struggle that Atkins witnessed at her age. She doesn't feel like she's judged because of her skin color, she said. While Boysaw says she's learned plenty about America's war for independence and the French Revolution, she would like to learn more black history. Everything's she's learned to this point inspires her to learn more, she said. "I like learning about my culture. I like learning about all the things that happened in the past," she said. "I just wish that in my school they would teach me and my other classmates more what happened in history," she said. Most of all, Boysaw said she just wants people to look at her as a person, rather than quickly categorizing her because of her race. Her father, Ted Boysaw Jr., said he moved here 17 years ago for "peace and quiet," and has only encountered one potentially violent situation here because of his race. He teaches his children not to let racism eat away at them. "Try not to focus on racism, it makes you angry," he tells his children. As for diversity on the coast he says, "It's changing a little bit, but not much." County Supervisor Rose Jacobs Gibson said she sees diversity on the coast, but nothing on par with most of the county. While she hopes to create more dialogue with communities and promote diversity in leadership, she's also reticent to change the status quo. "Some things you just accept," she said. Back in his Half Moon Bay apartment, Atkins relives the pains he had to accept and explains why he stepped away from the front lines in the fight for racial equality. At a march in Selma, Ala., Atkins was run over by police horses and beaten with sticks and cattle prods. The beating cost him 97 days in a hospital. Years later, he spent 53 days in a San Francisco jail. He was never charged with a crime and didn't see a courtroom, he said. "I was fed up. I was recuperating. I was angry. I felt like I could just step away from it," Atkins said. "The things you learn when you're in combat. It's a game I learned to play well," Atkins said. "I haven't lost my love for mankind or anything like that. "I lost respect," he said, "but I still love them." Home