Raised by her grandparents from the time she was 8 months old, Velmar Byrd grew up on a farm in North Carolina under the shadow of Jim Crow. She and her family grew their own vegetables, raised chickens and pigs, and lived largely off the land.
It was a full life — but swimming wasn’t part of it.
“Nobody in my family talked about swimming,” Byrd recalls, even though there were ponds, creeks and beaches nearby. “I wasn’t going to jump into any of those creeks. No, no, no.”
Inez Watson is a child of Jim Crow, too, and grew up in segregated Baltimore. But she began swimming as a youngster at Druid Hill Park, one of the few city pools open to Black people. She swam every day during the summertime and, as a teenager, took diving lessons and taught people to swim.
Her community, however, wasn’t so interested.
Persistent problem
“The fear may be instilled in young children,” Watson says. “People hear reports of a child drowning or an adult drowning, and then it becomes, ‘You’re not going near the water.’ And that fear gets passed down.”
Now, Byrd and Watson, both senior citizens, are swimming ambassadors of a sort. They are not only swimming regularly for their own health but also encouraging other Black people to learn a skill many in their communities never had the opportunity to develop.
Last month, two U.S. soldiers who went missing during a training exercise in Morocco were later found to have drowned. Both were Black, and one was known to be a non-swimmer — a tragedy that reflects a longstanding disparity.
Almost 40 million U.S. adults report being unable to swim. Roughly 1 in 3 Black adults say they can’t swim, compared with about 15% of adults overall. Most Black adults have never taken a swimming lesson.
Researchers say the causes are layered, including a legacy of segregated pools and beaches during the Jim Crow era, generational gaps in swimming culture and fears about water that have been passed down through families for decades.
No fear here
Both Watson and Byrd are living proof that fear can be overcome.
Watson, 89, calls her athleticism “a gift from God.” She still teaches fitness classes with her daughter and remains active in her community.
“Everything I’ve done has been about quality of life. I saw that it was fun and when I got older, I realized it [swimming] can save your life,” Watson says.
Byrd swims and does water aerobics at least twice a week.
“I come out feeling good,” she says simply.
Her path to the water was much longer. When Byrd moved to Connecticut as a young woman, a friend offered to teach her to swim, but the lessons never took hold.
“I wanted to learn,” Byrd says.
Never too late
Decades passed before she took her first formal lesson.
Learning to swim became about more than exercise. It was also about confronting a fear she had carried for years.
“I had to unlearn some of those fears in order for me to move forward,” she says.
Around age 69, Byrd enrolled in swim lessons and eventually found an instructor who would not let her quit. She began taking regular lessons at 70.
“That’s where I really learned,” she says.
‘Fear is blockage’
Watson hopes more people will see swimming not only as recreation but as a life-saving skill.
That message resonates with Byrd.
“Any kind of fear is a blockage,” she says. “That comes with swimming, too.”
She believes the most powerful intervention begins with parents, encouraging children to become comfortable around water before fear takes root.
She also believes the way adults talk about water can either reinforce fear or build confidence.
Her message to anyone still hesitant is straightforward.
“There are hundreds of thousands of swimmers. They’re still living,” Byrd says. “I can learn to swim and live.”
This story originally appeared here.