Resources & Questions for contemplation about this story

In 1968, Carol and Fred Banister, white, educated, and financially secure, made a decision that would change their lives forever. The young couple, already blessed with a son and daughter of their own, decided to expand their family through adoption. They knew there were children who desperately needed homes because Carol volunteered at the Sutter Street YWCA in San Francisco, California, that provided services to young pregnant girls of color. ”

Carol Banister rests on a meditational maze.

At Sutter Street’s YWCA, Carol saw pregnant girls, ages ten to sixteen, every day, few of whom had the means to care for their babies once they were born. Carol had specifically chosen to contribute her time to nonwhite girls because, “It angered me that the lack of services provided to young moms of color caused many of their babies to be born with health problems that could have been prevented. To make matters worse, due to the economic disparities between white and blacks at that time, there were very few families of color who could even afford to adopt.”

Carol’s sensitivity to racial inequities was sparked while she was still in elementary school. As a second generation American of Swedish, Welsh, and Scottish descent, she grew up in an Italian-American, Catholic neighborhood in New Hampshire. Swedes were considered to be on the very bottom rung of the social ladder, or so she thought, until she saw how poorly the other kids treated a new African-American girl.

“I became radicalized at the age of ten,” she said with fire in her eyes. “I was incensed that this African-American girl was teased and tormented and no one did anything about it.

The only power I had was to be her friend, and that’s exactly what I did.

“I think I got my sense of fairness and justice from my mother,” Carol said. “As the sole bread-winner for our family, she wanted to be an underwriter at the insurance company where she worked and was told that they only put men in those positions. Instead of accepting the status quo, she raised enough challenges to become New Hampshire’s first female insurance underwriter.

“Years later, my strong commitment to fairness was further fueled by Professor Robert Reuman, one of my college teachers, and by St. Alban’s Church that provided support for social activists. Because of my professor’s commitment to social activism, we were exposed to the voices of people who have been silenced throughout history. Under his tutelage, we learned how to speak out and protest when injustice reared its ugly head. He led by example.

“I began to associate with activists on a regular basis and continued to learn nonviolent direct-action strategies. Any shyness I still harbored from my youth vanished. My soul felt free! No longer did I feel like I would be relegated to being a spectator to injustice. I was becoming a person who had the power and skills to stand up to it. I became a social activist. I was unstoppable and gave my time and energy to one community project after another. This kind of lifestyle suited me just fine, but I did wonder who would want to live with me. Though I was independent, strong, and needed my space, I didn’t envision living my life as a single person.

“I was very fortunate to meet Fred. He was attracted to my strength of convictions and sense of rebellion to injustice. He’s very much the same way. He even agreed to have the same number of kids—two biological ones and two adopted ones!