An Early Lesson in Segregation
In April 1947, I was born in Birmingham, Alabama. My parents learned at my six-weeks checkup that I had a heart murmur – atrial septal defect, a hole in the upper chambers of the heart that failed to close when I was born. Fortunately, the University Hospital, now known as UAB Hospital, had excellent pediatric cardiologists.
Because of frequent doctor’s visits, I became familiar with the hospital. The entry, the lobby, the elevators are still clear in my mind. At one visit, when I was about seven or eight years of age, I remember when the elevator went down instead of up. I had never been down before! “An adventure,” I thought. I was a curious child.
But, this adventure was not an exciting one. It became an extremely sad story, a horror story, one which I have never forgotten. When the elevator reached the basement, the doors opened, and curious me just had to look at what was in the basement. I saw a large room, then called a “ward,” with 20 or more beds filled with African-American patients. I didn’t know how to comprehend what I saw. But, the “picture” has stayed in my mind all of my life. This was my first lesson in segregation. This is probably the reason I still want to stand up and fight for justice for those who still have to endure injustice.
Linda C. Thacker
October 16, 2025
A mention of medical inequities in Birmingham suddenly reminded Linda Thacker of a searing childhood memory. She wrote this piece in October 2025, expressly for Kids in Birmingham 1963.