Color and Race

I bungled my first conversation with Meg about race. To be fair though, I wasn't expecting it -- especially not in the middle of watching "Toy Story 3."

We were watching the movie the other night when Meg asked me if Woody's hat is black. No, I said, it's brown. Then she asked about Mr. Potato Head, was he black? Nope, I told her, he's brown. She asked about slinky dog next, and Mrs. Potato Head, and about Buster (the dog in the film). I told her none of them were black, they were all brown.

Then it dawned on me what was going on.

Somewhere Meg had picked up that she is black, and that it has to do with the color of her skin. Being the smart kid she is, who knows her colors, including the difference between black and brown, there was now some confusion. And I was doing nothing to help the situation.

I paused the movie and looked at Meg.

"Baby," I said, "your skin is the color brown. People may call it black, but it's color is brown. And no matter what color it is it is wonderful skin, and I love you very much."

"Is your skin brown," she asked.

"No, it's pink," I said. I figured that would be easier than explaining "pasty."

"Is Daddy's skin brown?"

"No, his is pink too, but we are your Mommy and Daddy and we love you."

Then she asked me to turn the movie back on and snuggled in.

After she went to bed I laid awake for about two hours after that wondering how I could have better handled it. Her skin isn't black, but she is. That black really has nothing to do with color and more with racial construct. That there are some people that have much darker skin than hers that will never be identified as black.

I started wondering if I should have brought up Dr. King. Then I remembered she is two.

I am hoping the next time I am better prepared. I am also hoping the next time is as innocent, and doesn't involve her feelings being hurt because of racism, or feelings of rejection due to a realization about the differences in our colors and what they mean.

I know those conversations are coming, I am just hoping that I am better at this when they do.

Oh, and that she still wants to snuggle with me after we are done talking.

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Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

Okay, so I think we all agree that the incident on Friday was most likely about racism.

Only one problem though. I can almost guarantee the man who thought he was being asked for money instead the time does not think of himself as a racist. I bet his friends don't think of him as a racist. I wouldn't be surprised if he spent the rest of his night trying to convince himself that the way he responded wasn't based on race, and that it was all just a misunderstanding. He probably reminded himself that he has plenty of friends of color.

That's the problem.

You can't start making changes until you admit there are changes to be made.

I've thought a lot about what I wish had happened Friday night. I mean, other than it not happening at all. The best case scenario? It would have ended with an apology. It would have ended with an acknowledgment of what happened, and a new resolve not to let it happen again.

That would have been uncomfortable though.

It would have required an admission that racism still exists, even among people who don't consider themselves racist.

And no one really wants to do that, do they?

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The Time

Friday night Ryan and I decided to go to the big annual arts festival in downtown Salt Lake. There were TONS of people there, and all over the surrounding streets. On one corner, right across from the festival, obviously waiting to be picked up, were a man, a woman, and three small children. Two of the kids were playing/fighting, and the third, a baby, was obviously getting fussy and didn't want to be put back in the stroller. I could see the frustration on the parents faces, and as we approached the father asked a man who was passing if he had the time.

Wait, I mean he tried to ask the man if he had the time. Before he got two words out the man said "no thank you, I can't help" and tried to hurry his wife along. The father's jaw dropped. My jaw dropped. Ryan looked at his watch and said "6:30." The man turned back around and started to give the time, but the father just looked at him and said "I don't need it from you."

Oh, I probably should have mentioned the family was black.

Thoughts?

I have some, but I really want to hear what you think first.

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