Friday, April 23, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Our First Racism Discussion
Two nights ago, as I readied my daughter for bed and read her our usual bedtime story, she chose a book we haven’t read in a long time. The book, called the Sweet Smell of Roses, showcases two girls as they join into a march alongside Martin Luther King Jr. and are swept up in the message of nonviolence, unity and freedom. At age four, my daughter asks a lot more questions than she did when we last read the book. 
This time she wanted to know:
-"Why are they walking together?”
-“Who are those people?”
and:
-“Why do they [white people] look so mad?”
We have read, Martin’s Big Words, stories of Barack Obama and discussed the color of our skin and her birthmother's skin color as well, so you would think I would have been more prepared for her questions.
This time I had to explain – at a four-year-old level – that some people judge others by the way they look and that Martin Luther King taught us all that we should accept one another. (Simplified version.) I expected her to accept this and simply move on as she usually does. This time she kept the conversation going. This time my message of tolerance seemed to backfire. She quickly informed me that she was no longer friends with “Lily” in her class because she had light skin, but that “Lara” would still be her friend because she has black skin, “…just like me.”
Yikes!
I then attempted - but failed - to explain that we should treat everyone kindly, not matter what they looked like. I explained that we live where we live because different types of people all live together and can be friends. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
This didn’t sink in. She insisted that only black girls were her friends.
(NOTE: I do expect to have a less Pollyannaish conversation about racism when I think she will understand it.)
At this point I asked about Mommy and Daddy. She informed that we were no longer her friends, but that her brother could be because he is black.
Fortunately, she was tired and we moved on, and as far as I can tell, she has completely forgotten the conversation. Considering she was happily playing with the many kids of all colors on the playground when I picked her up from school the next day, I think it is OK. Still, I intend to be much better prepared for the conversation next time.
This time she wanted to know:
-"Why are they walking together?”
-“Who are those people?”
and:
-“Why do they [white people] look so mad?”
We have read, Martin’s Big Words, stories of Barack Obama and discussed the color of our skin and her birthmother's skin color as well, so you would think I would have been more prepared for her questions.
This time I had to explain – at a four-year-old level – that some people judge others by the way they look and that Martin Luther King taught us all that we should accept one another. (Simplified version.) I expected her to accept this and simply move on as she usually does. This time she kept the conversation going. This time my message of tolerance seemed to backfire. She quickly informed me that she was no longer friends with “Lily” in her class because she had light skin, but that “Lara” would still be her friend because she has black skin, “…just like me.”
Yikes!
I then attempted - but failed - to explain that we should treat everyone kindly, not matter what they looked like. I explained that we live where we live because different types of people all live together and can be friends. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
This didn’t sink in. She insisted that only black girls were her friends.
(NOTE: I do expect to have a less Pollyannaish conversation about racism when I think she will understand it.)
At this point I asked about Mommy and Daddy. She informed that we were no longer her friends, but that her brother could be because he is black.
Fortunately, she was tired and we moved on, and as far as I can tell, she has completely forgotten the conversation. Considering she was happily playing with the many kids of all colors on the playground when I picked her up from school the next day, I think it is OK. Still, I intend to be much better prepared for the conversation next time.
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