J could not understand why little Ron was not allowed to have a library card. As we tried to explain the historical context in a way he could grasp, it dawned on us that J doesn't really understand racism because he doesn't really have a concept of race. Which was MIND BLOWING. It's hard to explain. TH and I don't feel like our lives are defined by race, but we certainly consider it a huge part of our identity. We have both experienced first hand both blatant and insidious racism. I'm not sure when I became aware of my race. Meaning, I've understood that I am a black person literally as long as I can remember. I don't remember my parents ever sitting me down and explaining it, or making a huge deal out of it, or focusing on it so much that it became a burden. But I've always identified that way.
J, however, knows that his skin is light brown. He knows that other people have skin that is "pink" or that have "yellow" hair. He has told me that there some of his friends speak Spanish. He has mentioned that his hair is "harder" than his friends. But TH and I realized last week that he's never categorized himself as being a part of a larger group. I'm not even sure if he's noticed that everyone in our family is the same race. Honestly, it brings up mixed emotions for me.
I think our children are going to be the first truly "post-racial" generation. They are the first group of kids exposed to people of all races in the media, in positions of power, and on the playground. They won't think anything of interracial families. They'll have proof in their own memories that the president isn't always a white male. They're post-Obama in a way that we will never be. It's fantastic.
But it also gives me pause. I don't want my children to be defined by their race. But I do want them to identify with it in some ways. I want them to have some knowledge and understanding of what the struggle was before them. When I tried to frame the idea of "minority" for J, I told him how I was the only black person in my entire vet school class. For that matter, I was one of only 2 black people (out of about 500) in my entire vet school for the four years that I went there. I want him to grasp that, in some small way. The fact that doors are wide open for him and his brother that were just ajar a little bit for our generation. I don't want to burden him with it, but I don't want him to ignore it, either. I cringe when I hear people trying to sound post-racial say, "I don't even see skin color." I find that so ridiculous. I want you to see my skin color. It's beautiful. It has a history. It's not better than anyone else's, and don't judge me because of it...but definitely see it.
So I'm glad J read this book. I'm glad that he thought about the story and proclaimed that it was unfair, and that anyone should be able to get a library card so they can read.
I'm glad that he looked at my hand next to his and said, "Your skin is the same color as mine."
* * *
Baby Talk answers (Maria, you're good!)
1. "Nonnie" = Manny. (How he refers to himself.)
2. "Coodie" = Car. I cannot explain this one.
3. "Pin-pin" = Cushion. We play a game J calls "Cushions" where we pull the cushions off the couch and the boys jump on them. After much crying one day we finally figured out why he was pointing at the couch asking to play pin-pin.
4. "Fuffins" = muffins.
5. "Kennies" = candy. Thanks, Halloween.
6. "Teen tine" = screen time. This refers to computer time only, TV is just...TV."
7. "Note neal" = oatmeal.
8. "Spa-doh"= spider. Again, thanks to Halloween decorations and his evil older brother for introducing him to that concept.
