“I played with the black boy…”
as we were gathering our items in preparation to leave the playground this is what my, then, 2 yr old son said, describing the boy with whom he had just played.
In an flash I am aware of race, and color, and I wonder how do I delicately broach this topic. I knew, as parent living in New York, and as a black male, and as the father of a bi-racial child, that discussing color-consciousness was something that I would eventually face with my child.
On the one hand I want to teach my son how to be proud and aware of his heritage. I also want him to view and love people for who they are and what they do, and not define them by the happenstance of their skin color.
And I want neither the racial history of this nation, nor my own biases, to limit or prejudice my son’s choices on who he chooses to love, hate, play, wed, dine, dance or whatever, with.
But all this flashed in the split second of that moment, and while I was experiencing this internal turmoil my son continued..
“..and the blue boy”
Looking back over my shoulder at the playground I see the two kids he was refering to, one who was wearing a black hoodie, the other wearing a purple sweater.
No, I remember thinking; I don’t need to have that conversation with my son yet. Maybe, instead, I just need to shut up
and let him and his friends teach me.
Via: The Daily Prompt: Black