As the election draws near, and as droves of fearful closet racists have begun to
act out, I find myself wondering about the culture in which Marcus and I will be raising our children. How do you raise a child to be sensitive and thoughtful towards other races and cultures in a nation that is so saturated with prejudice? Racism is a part of everyday life here; and I do mean that literally - I enounter it almost every single day.
Not all acts of prejudice are equal. Not every act is violent and not every act is hateful. Some are merely annoying or inconvenient. Some may be frightening while others may provoke a mere eyeroll. It's been years since I've actually been brought to tears over it, which means that I should probably count myself lucky.
This is the culture we live in:
At work: Just yesterday, one of my coworkers called another a "chink" and then quickly dismissed her as being oversensitive when she took offense. The day before, another coworker squinted his eyes at her and then told her that he was part Chinese. Last week yet another coworker (there is no shortage, I tell you!) went on a tirade about how interracial marriage is destroying the country.
Online: Ugh, there is no shortage. I frequently come upon psuedo-scholarly rants about how blacks are naturally inferior and less intelligent than whites in Youtube comments, web forums, comments sections in news articles - basically any medium in which anonymous users have the freedom to rant. It doesn't surprise me to see even the most foul and racially charged comments anywhere online, I suppose because I'm used to it.
Retail: While on vacation, Marcus and I went into a souvenir shop that had several t-shirt designs featuring the confederate flag and wonderful slogans such as "It's called the WHITE house for a reason."
Even our nation's holidays are no exception. The whole nation over, children are being taught that we celebrate
Christopher Columbus every October because he "discovered" America. The fact that he was a bit of a murderous psychopath and the father of the TransAtlantic Slave Trade never seems worthy of mention. (Is it really progression to whitewash history and pretend that those things never happened, to celebrate a day that the indigenous people of this country rightfully
mourn?)
I think about my childhood and I wonder if our children will endure anything like that. It wasn't awful, it certainly could have been worse...but it certainly could have been better. My brother and I were called nigger sometimes by our classmates. When i was 11, a couple of boys in our school threatened to stab me with a broken hula hoop (they swung it about an inch from my face) and then told my 8-year-old brother that they were going to cut off his penis. He was bullied constantly.
One incident that I don't think I'll ever forget happened to me in 7th grade. A black girl named Lynette joined our class (there were about 40 kids to a grade and 20 to a class - it was a very small school) and she was immensely liked by the popular kids. One of those popular girls, someone who had been my classmate for almost a decade, started talking to me at the start of the school year, which came as a surprise to me. She sought me out at lunchtime and talked to me about boys and makeup or some crap like that, and I just sort of tolerated her for a week or two, until the day she suddenly called me Lynette. Startled, I looked at her and stammered, "I'm not Lynette." This girl, who had known me since pre-K but apparently couldn't tell the difference between me and a complete stranger because of our skin color, just stared at me before saying, "Oh" and walking off, ignoring me ever after.
My brother and I never told anyone about the abuses we suffered in school due to our race, and now that I'm all grown up, I have to wonder why. I remember feeling like it was just the way things were and being certain that if I spoke up, I would not be taken seriously. The people that said these things were usually known as good or okay kids; would any of our teachers even believe us that they could be so hateful in secret? I knew that our parents would believe us, but honestly, I still don't know why I didn't tell them either. I hope that if our children are ever threatened or bullied (because of their skin color or any other reason) that they know that they'll be able talk to us about it.
I hope that my children know that I will always be their advocate.
I don't want to be "that" parent, the one that folks in the PTA hate for not being content with the status quo. Common practices that seem minor and harmless to lots of other people don't seem that way to me (for instance, many people would be horrified if their children brought home an assignment to "color the negro" or dressed up in blackface for a play at school - but it's perfectly acceptable to color a
caricature of an Indian or to don a stereotypical costume?), and I'm going to raise my children according to my values. The woman in that link sent her son's assignment back uncompleted, which I think was appropriate. But what if he was punished by his teacher for it? I hate to think that my child could get caught in the middle of an ideological struggle because of me, that she may pay for something that she might not even totally understand.
But at the same time, I can't help my convictions. I can't help feeling that some things are worth fighting for even if it gets ugly, that comfort and approval from others is a small price to pay for doing what is right, that some unsavory truths must be dragged into the light if we're to ever achieve...harmony? I don't know. I don't know what I can realistically expect for our children's futures. I just know that I want my kids to be sensitive, to be aware of their privileges, to be grateful, and to be kind. And I want them to know that doing the right thing will sometimes mean pissing a lot of other people off, but that doesn't make it any less right.