What would it look like if whites had the same racial solidarity as blacks?
Growing up Darden: My classmates thought my father, who prosecuted O.J. Simpson, was a traitor
I was 15 years old in 1994 when my father, Christopher Darden, joined the prosecution team against O.J. Simpson, a case very much in the news again thanks to “The People vs. O.J. Simpson,” now airing on FX. To say the least, it was a turbulent time for me: the daughter of a black prosecutor, prosecuting a successful black man in the trial of the 20th century.
I grew up in East Oakland, in a mostly black and Latino neighborhood. My parents never married and I lived with my mother. Life before the trial was simple. Our street had less crime compared to other blocks in the area, and all I wanted in life were straight A’s, a boyfriend who shared my love for X-Men cartoons, and TLC concert tickets. As the racial tensions surrounding the case grew, so did my anxiety. I worried the students at my predominantly black high school would harass me when they found out about my father. Many black people sided with Simpson and thought my father was a traitor.
Most of my classmates told me, “I don’t agree with what your daddy is doing, but you’re cool so I support you.” But not everyone felt compassion. While walking down the stairs after class one day, a black kid stopped me on the steps when other students were around. He said to my face, “Dude, I’m sorry, but your father is a Tom. A straight up sellout.” Then he strutted away as if he’d accomplished something. Embarrassment and shock left me speechless.
On the flip side, black people who suspected I was related to “that Darden” and believed Simpson was guilty would whisper conspiratorially in my ear. “I think he did it,” they’d say, “but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” They feared others would consider them sellouts too.
I understood why many black people, especially black people in Los Angeles, supported Simpson. I remember the beating of Rodney King and the shooting death of Latasha Harlins, 15, over a bottle of orange juice. Like today, black folks were tired of racially motivated killings. Still it hurt to see my father, a proud black man who encouraged me to embrace my heritage, be called a traitor. My father wanted justice for victims Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman…
“Hey, I noticed your last name is Darden,” said the short, middle-aged black man from my Bay Area fitness class in 2003. I knew what was coming next.
“Are you related to Chris Darden, the bald-headed guy from the O.J. trial?”
I gave my usual response.
“Oh, no,” I lied.
“Good,” he said while pounding his clenched fist into his palm. “Man, if I ever saw that [racial slur] I’d … “
