In June of 2011, I
posted a blog about raising color blind children. Those of you that want to go
back and look, fantastic. For the rest of you, here’s the gist of the blog. My kids found themselves in a highly diverse
situation and did not seem to notice skin color in their choice of friends to
enjoy. I, having grown up in a less diverse environment, was thrilled. I could
not have been happier that my kids were seeing past race, looking at the
person.
I pondered whether
our children were really growing up color blind. I couldn’t wait for them to be
old enough, so that we could talk about it. So I could find out what they were
really thinking.
And I felt pretty
secure about my thinking. After all, isn’t it beneficial to us all, as people,
to be seen as who we are beyond our race or other markers that our society has
deemed important? Beyond our race, our gender, our religion…
Shortly after
posting that blog, I found an interesting article online. The author of this
article would have had heavy commentary on my blog, given ample opportunity. He
felt that striving to raise color blind, i.e. diversity blind, children was a
misguided goal. While it might promote harmony, the process of doing so would
erase the value of diversity brought to the situation. He felt that we should
raise kids that are color/diversity aware without the detrimental judgments
that often attach themselves. After all, do we avoid mentioning that a person
is blond or dark haired? Blue eyed or brown eyed? No, we don’t. Because our
society doesn’t attach larger implications to those particular details. And to
be honest, very few people identify themselves based on their role in a blond
haired culture or a brown eyed culture.
Interesting
theory… It made me think.
My kids are in a
new preschool this year and making new friends. My daughter, very gender
oriented, likes to think that girls are her friends and boys are for her
brother. I’m told this is normal and I believe it.
One of the little
girls in the class, an adorable little lady, is my daughter’s newest topic of conversation.
Let’s call her M, as I don’t know her mom well enough to ask for consent.
M is black. (Trust
me. I’ll explain why this is relevant in a moment…)
So, we are on the
way home from school the other day and my daughter starts talking about her
friend M.
Her: Mommy M is my
friend. She’s a girl like me. She has long hair like me. She has brown eyes
like me. She has pink fingers like me.
Me:
(thinking for a second…) You’re right honey. She is your friend. She’s a
girl. Her eyes are brown and she has long hair. But, are her fingers all pink?
Her: Yes, they
are.
Me: Are Ms.
Erika’s fingers all pink like mommy’s or are they darker?
(Ms. Erika is a dear friend of mine. She
happens to be black and my kids adore her. I figured she was a good reference
for this particular conversation.)
Her: (Thinks for a
second, then grins) They are darker!
Me: That’s right.
And how about M? What color are her fingers?
Her: (Thinks for a
second, grins again). They are dark like Ms. Erika’s!
Me: That’s right,
honey. They are.
SLIGHT PAUSE
Her: Mommy, M is
my friend. She’s a girl like me. (Huge grin)
I grinned too,
because the conversation made me happy. I like what my daughter took from what had been said. It was cool to figure out something new about her new friend, but
ultimately the coolest part is that she’s a girl. Oh, and she has a Hello Kitty
backpack and gives good hugs. That’s pretty important when you are 3, almost 4.
I like my change
of view. I appreciate that we are talking about race, about diversity, about
differences. It’s something to notice, to embrace. It’s just not everything.
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