Living in the South is still tough....

We live in Alabama. I know that. But I had hopes for a new generation...a wisdom beyond my own.

Porter is seven. Until today, the only way she has ever differentiated between races or ethnicities is by factual observations and descriptions: "Mommy, do you know so-and-so in my class...she's my friend with brown skin and black hair?"

Stage Right:

The en route-to-gymnastics, in-the-van conversation started off about one of her friends being Chinese and having a crush on another friend and it being bad. I wasn't sure why she had inserted that he was Chinese so, I asked her, "Why is that bad?" Her response, "Because she has white skin." Quickly followed by, "Can white people marry Chinese people? Can they marry black people?"

I was thrown for a loop. I told her yes, and reminded her that her beloved Mr. Craig (Chinese American) was married to a woman with white skin and that black people do marry white people. (I did however quickly throw in a lesson on the fact that God DOES tell us we are to marry people who love Jesus like we do.) Then I asked her why she asked me that.

Then I got a lesson on Jackie Robinson and MLK Jr fighting (without fists) for black people to get to swim in the same pool and walk down the same street as white people. It's all true. The history of our country has some really rough spots, and I know she ultimately needs to know that. But did it have to be now? Did it have to cloud her precious innocent spirit? It made me wonder if teachers need to teach the new generation in a new way.

I distinctly remember the moment the rose tinted glasses were removed and I realized that so many people in my life saw black (I don't think anyone used African American back then.) and white people as different. I was in fourth grade. A new white girl had moved into town...from Memphis (the big city). It was the early 80's and the greasy product of the day that allowed my brown skinned friends to sport their Jheri Curl style was used in abundance. That day there was a hair on the cafeteria table, and this new friend screamed, "Enemy!" I had no idea what she was talking about. She looked at me with disdain and said, "It's a black person's greasy hair." "Oh." Innocence gone.

Now, I don't think that experience made me racist just like I don't think Porter's adoration of her first BFF (who has brown skin) has subsided. I just hate that she was exposed to the human potential for hate. I'm so sad. It's such a grown-up, crummy thing.

Yep, living in the South still has it's rough spots.