May 1, 2011

This little girl had a bad day at school on Friday.

It seems a boy in the class assaulted her and another classmate with a barrage of insults about their, "black skin," "black people belong in Africa," "black people are poor and they die young."

My daughter has never been called black before.

She has pointed out herself at times that she and daddy are darker than Bubs and I, but the observation usually stopped there.  God made us all different had been our usual response on those occasions.

We didn't intentionally set out to keep her heritage from her--

It just hasn't come up in a big sense, until Friday.

I remember when I was first pregnant and found out she was a girl. My mother-in-law promised she would teach me how to do cornrows (I just had to google to see if it was rows or rolls--seriously).  

I remember thinking in that moment, "Oh my gosh!"

That was my first revelation that we would in fact be raising biracial kids.

I simply hadn't thought about it before and I didn't dwell on it either. 

As it turns out she was born with beautiful curls that need a little moroccan oil to smoothe--

but she has the best wash and wear hair I've ever seen!

Sidenote:  I just read this post aloud to Ernie, who corrected me to cornrolls.  "No, I googled it--look." I just schooled him!! It was funny!!  We both had a good laugh!

I digress.  It seems that Ernie's family is a box of crayons in terms of skin color and hair types.  

We all just fit right in so the kids have never really questioned it. We have a tendency to see people for who they are not based on the color of their skin. I'm mixed. He is mixed. Aren't we all, really?

Lene recounted the days events to both of us.  

She didn't seem especially angry or sad.  

She told the boy his words were hurtful and he laughed at her. 

So began Dad's explanation of their heritage. 

And then he told her his skin is in fact, black.

She shook her head. "No.  No. No."

He spoke some more about their Creole roots.

She seemed perplexed. "You mean I'm African American?"

He continued speaking, this time about my background.

She let it all sink in.

"Martin Luther King fought for the rights of black people.  For me?"

Yes, sweetness.

All for you.

You were made in God's own image and likeness and you are perfect in His eyes.

And because sometimes you don't know what to do, all you can do is pray.  

We prayed for this little boy and all other people who judge people based on the color of their skin.

I can't believe we still have to deal with this type of thing in 2011.

It saddens me that my kids have to deal with it at all.

The discussion continues between Ernie and I--should we have armed our daughter with information to prepare her for a situation like this?  Would it have been better if she could declare her Spanish, Mexican, Native American, Creole, Irish, and German roots?  

Did we handle this the right way--was it too much information, or not enough?

I don't know.  I simply don't know.
I just have to be confident that He does. . .