Being Confronted With My Child Learning About Racism In School

My eldest is homeschooled. So I am the one who gets to be her teacher, and I love this most days. However, in the last few weeks, my Kinder has been learning about the Civil War, Martin Luther King, The Underground Railroad, slavery, and racism. And I was taken by surprise by the complicated feelings I had over it. 

I vividly remember learning about this in middle school… I have no clue if I learned about this stuff in elementary, I don't remember because I'm old (not really, I just don't remember a lot about early childhood). And I remember these similar feelings swimming in my stomach as I learned about how the Natives were massacred, how slavery started, and how it continued for a sickeningly long time. 

I remember staring at my teacher, feeling sick to my stomach that it took a war where hundreds of thousands of people died for an agreement to come that treating human beings like cattle is WRONG. Not even an agreement happened, it was just that luckily the 'good guys' won. I remember thinking: If the South had won… would life still be like that for Black Americans? For real? 

And I'll be honest, racism in all forms makes me uncomfortable and upset. I grew up in a neighborhood where I was the palest kid - so I didn't understand what 'racism' was until I learned about it in school. ALL of my friends had darker skin than me, and quite frankly I was jealous of them. I wanted to be a beautiful amber or chocolate color, not look like the freaking Ghost of Christmas Present. 

I remember them calling me "white girl," and thinking it was an affectionate nickname. I never once thought how it could have been an insult. I remember getting into fights with people who looked like me, even adults, protecting my friends, and not even understanding what the real issue was (I'm a ride-or-die kinda friend. No questions asked, let's do this friend! Been that way since I was a wee lass!)

I remember when my mom was the manager of an apartment complex in Fresno, California. A couple of friends and I would walk to the bus stop together. There was an old man who lived around that gate who would yell out at my friends. He would say stupid things I didn't understand, like 'porch monkies,' or the typical racial slur that starts with the letter 'n.' I didn't understand what these words meant, and eventually I couldn't keep quiet anymore. It would upset my friends, and they would yell back at him, and I would worry about us getting in trouble. I had NO clue what was happening in front of me.

I asked THEIR mom what it meant, mostly because I was afraid my mom would get mad at me if it was a cuss word. When she explained to my 5-year-old self that it was a disgusting thing to say about people with black skin, I remember crying - and not understanding. He didn't like my friends just because of their skin? WHY? They were beautiful! And nice! And they were fun to play with!

I also found out my friends hadn't told their mom about the stupid old man… and let me tell you what: I want to be as beautiful as she was when I'm that mad… but I am just not. I look like a deformed beast when I'm braying in anger, she looked like a beautiful angel of freaking war!  

She went stomping down the street, after banging on my mom's door, yelling and cussing into the night. I was impressed and awed, after my friends reassured me that I wasn't the one she was mad at. I was also five, and remember flames bursting from her eyes and thought she was glowing. Overactive imagination - it's why I'm a writer.

The next day, walking home from the bus stop, he said it again. But with added intensity due to the boxing mine and my friend's mom probably gave him the night before. 

I picked up a small rock and nailed him right in the face and screamed: "YOU ARE THE ONLY MONKEY AROUND HERE POOPOO HEAD!" My friends told our moms what I did, and they made me a whole damn cake to reward me, and mom evicted him for harassing minors. This is one of the very few memories of my childhood that I have. It stuck with me. Especially since I got a cake for defending my friends. Not gonna lie. #Ilikecakeokay?

So I'm going to be real and raw here: I am naive and uneducated about racism.

 I was raised with this rule: We are all people and we all deserve kindness. You do not start fights, but you may finish them if you are defending yourself or another person who cannot stand up for themselves. And also the most terrifying line of all: "And if I hear of you being a bully to ANYONE for ANY REASON I will beat you within an INCH of your life. You do not have to like someone, but you will respect them until they give you a tangible reason not to. This world is ugly enough without you helping it."

My mother never talked about "black people," "Mexican people" or "Asian people." 

She just said names, and referred to them as "people." "Mrs. Cho said to tell you hi!" "Robbie brought this book for you!" She didn't say "The Asian lady said hi!" Or "That dark feller brought you a book." I had no idea that people with different skin colors were considered a 'minority group.' I just wasn't exposed to it a lot. 

So I guess you could say when I stopped going to school and stopped learning about it… I almost forgot there was racism. I never needed to think about it. If you are nice, or funny, or even just decent, I probably love you upon introducing yourself me. Unless you're just a terrible person, I don't look at others and seek out their differences. Racism just never came up - because I don't seek it out. I may even avoid it, because likely, I'd go to jail for losing my temper and trying to disengage the jaw of someone who shouldn't be allowed to speak anymore because of groomed stupidity and ignorance. I would not survive in jail, I am not street-smart enough. 

Social Studies With Sky

So my kindergartner was learning about the Civil War. And like a terrible person and mother, I wasn't ready to talk to her about slavery and racism. So I didn't go any further with trying to teach her more than what the module said. 

But a few days later, the decision was made for me by my child's curriculum. It was teaching her about Martin Luther King Jr. But it was only showing her segments. The famous lines, and ever so VAGUELY explaining racism... in a way that only makes children turn to parents and... do the kid thing. You know... the thing...with the questions?

So my daughter frowns and looks at the screen, and I see her little brain working. 

"Mommy. Why did he dream about white boys and girls holding hands with black girls and boys? Was this a real dream?"

"Well, he was talking about how he hoped that one day, people would not hate each other based on the color of their skin. Back then, people who had darker skin were treated very badly. Martin Luther King Jr. was one of the most powerful men to stand up and speak about how everyone should be treated fairly, and kindly, no matter what they look like."

Okay. SO FAR. SO GOOD! Not a terrible explanation, right?

"Well, mommy, what makes a person's skin black? And why did people with white skin treat them badly?"

This is where I start having anxiety.

"A person's skin is defined by where their ancestors are from, and also a chemical called melanin…" 

"Melotonine?"

Crap. See how fast that started to derail? I'm speaking to a five-year-old, and I am PANICKING. 

"Uh. No. Okay. So… what do you want to know?"

"I want to know why white people were mean to black people."

"Well, baby. I'm going to be honest. I don't really understand it myself. A long, long time ago, people who have lighter skin from places like Europe, would buy black people from Africa, and bring them to America as slaves."

"But mommy, what IS a slave?"

"It's someone who… belongs and is owned by another human. Almost like a pet… but instead of loving them, they used them to do a lot of hard work. And so, people thought for a long time that people with darker skin, not just black people, but lots of types of people…weren't as good. So they were very mean to them. And it's wrong. Nobody should ever be a slave. Or treated badly."

At this point, my 5-year-old daughter is looking at me, and I recognize the same feelings I felt when I first learned about slavery and racism. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to sniffle. 

"But mommy! That isn't good! What do we do? How can we fix it?"

"I know baby. But do you remember them talking about Abraham Lincoln, and how he freed all the slaves?"

"Yes, I remember…"

"Well, that's why there are no more slaves here in America. Now we live in a country, where everyone should be treated fairly and kindly by everyone."

"Mommy, are people still mean to black people?"

At this point, I'm sweating. I feel like I am in a police interrogation, and the officer is about to break down in an emotional meltdown. I have a strict rule. I do not lie to my kids. Not outright. If I have to omit a little, or make it easier to understand, it's different. 

But the best policy, I have decided is to not shelter my children. I do not shield them from the truth - but expose them to it when I have an opportunity to. 

Even if I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY don't want to. And even if I am experiencing a mom-crisis about their innocence.

"I would say, about half of people are. Maybe a little less. But yes, baby, some people are still mean to black people. And people like daddy and uncle. And even Asian people."

Now my sweet little girl looks up at me, and her bottom lip trembles. 

"But… WHY, Mommy? And what about Daddy? Are people mean to him? Or Gabby my best friend? OR MY SISTER?" (for context, Gabby, her best friend is a gorgeous little caramel-skinned mix baby who has the most gorgeous green eyes you'll ever see -and my fiance is very dark, sexy and Hispanic ❤ Not her bio-father either. And her sister is my adopted niece, from my sister who is of Latino descent and if my sister knew which boy was the father for sure, it was a boy of color.)

It's at this point, that I now realize my daughter has for the first time, come to the conclusion that her step-father and her best friend from pre-k might be different… and now with her new education, she knows that people might be mean to them. The stress on her face has now intensified, along with the bottom lip quiver. And my momma instincts are screaming at me: ABORT! ABORT MISSION! TURN BACK NOW!

She's looking for deeper answers than what the robot on the screen was narrating to her. I didn't have them… and I'll be honest I didn't want the answers. I am happy in not understanding hatred. I am perfectly happy looking at fellow human beings and not thinking they have to be on a different level somehow because of how they look or who they love. 

So I close her laptop and I sit down next to her. I pull her close and I make her look at me in the eyes.

"Baby. I don't know. I really don't. I don't understand why some people hate other people, because I don't think it's good to hate anyone. I do not think that someone else is any different than I am just because they have a different type of skin. I think we should all treat each other with kindness, respect, and even love. Does it upset you, that there are people out there who don't like black people?"

My baby nods, her big blue eyes still filled with tears that haven't quite fallen, and she has the most contemplative look on her face as she looks down at her hands. 

"Mommy… are we bad because our skin is white?" 

When she whispered this question to me, my heart broke. 

"Some people might say so. But so long as you treat people with kindness, and you stand up for people who can't stand up for themselves, then no, sweet baby. You are not bad just because you are white. Listen to Mommy. The color of our skin does not make who we are. It is what is in our hearts that matters." 

She's still not convinced and I can see it because she's still rubbing her arms self-consciously. 

"Do you hate black people?"

"No Mommy!"

"What about people with brown skin, like Gabby or Daddy, or what about your sissy?" 

"NO!" - This, by the way, is what breaks the dam and makes her cry. Poor baby. "I LOVE my daddy! I LOVE my Gabby! And my sissy! I love her so much!" (wailing dramatically, tears streaming down her face.)

"Then that means your heart is good. And so long as your heart is good, then you are good. You don't have to worry about being bad because of your skin color. So long as you always remember to treat others with kindness… and stand up for what you believe in, and don't treat others differently if they look different."

"How come they are talking about it at school?"

"To teach you, so that you and your friends never make the same mistakes that our ancestors made. To teach us that bad things happen when we walk around and hate others."

"Oh… so they are teaching us so we can be better?"

"YES!"

I don't know if that's the truth. Conspiracies aside… I will take this full-circle ending to this horrible, uncomfortable conversation where my 5-year-old baby is having a crisis over her own skin color and how people could possibly be mean to her dad or her best friend, and I am having to explain a whole hatred that I have no part in or knowledge of.

"Will people be mean to sissy?"

"Well, baby, someday someone might. How do you think you will feel if that happens?"

"I will punch them in the face!" 

Well, crap. That wasn't what I hoping to hear… though it's not a terrible answer either. And I believe it. Little girl is spicey. At least I know she's got her sister's back…? Lol.

"Uh... Well I am glad you would protect your sister. I don't think you'll need to punch anyone in the face. We will cross that bridge when we get there, kiddo."

She accepts this answer, and calms down, nodding sagely in her newfound kindergartener wisdom, and continues her lesson without any more interrogation. I have spent the last few days with pain in my heart from this conversation. 

The truth is... I don't know if my answer was good enough.

And I feel like a piece of innocence was stolen from my daughter. I'm not saying I didn't want her to ever learn about it… just not at 5 years old when she still thinks that marriage just means you become family and live together. 

"When I grow up I want to marry Gabby, Zavian AND Corbin, and we can live together and have fun every day!"

It hurts my heart that our kids are learning about hate that's confusing complex and painful so young. I know it's important, and it needs to be learned. Maybe this is just mommy-growing pains - not wanting her to learn these dark things and wanting to shield her from the ugly parts of the world. 

I just wish this part of their innocence wasn't something we had to worry about being taken away. And I hate that there are children out there, whose innocence is taken away because they are the victim of someone else's hate. That just blows my freaking mind, you know? How could anyone be racist towards a kid - ANY kid? 

I hope my answer was good enough… I hope I'm teaching her correctly. I don't want her to be as sheltered about racism as I was… but I also don't want to teach her racism either. I want to leave the world better than what I found it… so I am hoping that the way I am raising my kids with a more educated but still firm belief that everyone is human and deserves respect and kindness - and that skin color is something that adds beauty to humanity, no matter what it is. 

I want to raise my kids by exposing them to different cultures. 

I want to teach them culture, pride and passion about where you come from, and how diversity brings about peace and change. I want to teach them the beauty of the world around us - including embracing the beauty that other cultures and ethnicities bring to this world. So that way when they see someone different, they do not see anything but the potential beautiful heart that lies within. 

Thanks for reading. Wish me luck - and if you have advice I will TAKE IT! (Please!)