A loss of innocence with Martin Luther King
Friday morning, riding the public bus to school, the King of Everything turned to me and asked, “Did you know, people with white skin are white people, and people with brown skin are black people?”
My blood ran a little cold. “Yes, sweets, I knew that. But I didn’t think you did.”
He leaned across me to address the older woman in the seat across the aisle. “You’re a black person!” he chirped. “And I’m a white person!”
One of the things I have loved about being with this child, this age, is his love of people, period. His innocence of the cruelty man visits upon man; his absolute faith in the goodness of every being around him. Some little blue flame flickered within me on Friday morning, as I listened to the death of innocence prattle on beside me.
“Who told you about different skin colors, babe?”
“My music teacher.” I pondered this for a moment. Why on earth would she have purposefully broken the spell? And then I had it.
“Ah. Was she talking about Martin Luther King?” He nodded. “I see. What did she tell you about him?”
And he was off again, merrily spewing forth facts with a decidedly four year old view. “He was a very good man, even though he wasn’t really a king, but he was a very good man who thought about the way people treated each other and tried hard to change things and…” he paused. “White people weren’t very nice to black people, were they?”
“No, sweets. Some folks think that, just because there’s something different about them, that makes them special, and gives them a right to act better than everyone else. But if you start only seeing the color of their skin… if that’s as far as your eyes and your heart take you, then you’re missing a whole lot else that makes a person what they are.” I paused, wondering if I was making any sense. “Don’t you forget to look deep, sweets. Don’t just stop with the color of someone’s skin, or you’re going to miss out on a whole lot in your life.”
At the space museum today, of all places, a short clip of Martin Luther King addressing a crowd flashed across the screen. “Hey!” my little man crowed, “There he is! That’s Marting Luther King!” and on his little face was a sort of glow reserved for fire fighters, and astronauts, and paleontologists. You know. Heroes.
Please God, let there come a day when we can all lay down our differences and work together to make the world an amazing place. Please, let us do this before it’s too late.
And thank you for the luxury of nearly five years of colorblind childhood for my son. I know it’s a privilege. I know children with skin of darker hue, hair of less straight a line, have to know early what it means to be judged for your surface qualities, and not seen for who you are inside. Please. I tried to teach my child how to see. Now it’s out of my hands. The world is his teacher, now. Help me preserve some faith and wisdom, some kindness and generosity, in his growing soul.
Tags: death-of-innocence, Martin-Luther-King, racismRelated Stories
POSTED IN: activism
8 opinions for A loss of innocence with Martin Luther King
JP
Jan 22, 2008 at 2:12 pm
How poignant, this.
I have struggled with the same, in a way, for many years now. I brought my oldest with me, at age six (some years ago now), to a client’s house. This client, a veteran employee at a government agency had lived with his boyfriend for over twenty years. (My child came along mostly for the cats, some for the education.) Later that day, I asked my child about the visit. “Did you like it there?” “Yes, they are nice, the cats are nice, and I liked the granola.” “Did you know that they (names) have been living together for over twenty years, and would like to get married, but are not allowed to?” I think you would have enjoyed the lecture from my six-year-old following that revelation.
Is there a difference between innocence and naivete? I would posit that there is, and the last is a term of derision used to describe those who hold attitudes conditioned by innocence even though the holders have other knowledge.
My point, I suppose, is that we moms and dads, solo and non-, remain the most important teachers our children have. (Maybe solo parents are more powerful in this regard due to unity of focus and voice.)
Far from accepting society as a teacher, I regard child-rearing to be a potentially revolutionary act, in the existential and not self-conscious sense. Your words of advice to the KoE on seeing deeper than skin tone — not as an order, but as advice on how to live a richer, more rewarding life — is that not a revolutionary sentiment?
Viva la revolucion!
christina
Jan 22, 2008 at 5:53 pm
I know that my son’s ultimate sounding board for all things true and good is still his mama, and I’ll take that seriously in the years to come. It’s difficult to pose the questions he needs, once that encourage him to think and make up his own mind.
I think we’ve been lucky to live in such a rich neighborhood, so he has friends with two dads or two moms,friends with parents from all over the world, from every color and creed.
I try hard to find him other voices to listen to, so I don’t become an all-seeing, overbearing mom…
Heaven knows I’m trying to teach my kid to do what is right, not what everyone else is doing. And I’m trying to give him the strength not to care what other people think when his drum is off on its own staccato beat.
Viva la revolucion indeed!
JP
Jan 22, 2008 at 7:24 pm
Now there’s a tough line to follow: when one’s drum is off on its own staccato beat, one must at once not particularly care what others think but, as a practical matter, it often quite important to know what others are thinking.
Iconoclasts have it tough. Iconoclasts without cognizance of the effect they have on others have it much, much tougher.
My own child struggles mightily with wanting to follow the course that seems right, but also is hurt deeply when others react negatively. (Raised primarily with me and not the ex, we’d be farther along on dealing with this, because the recognition would have come sooner. One never wants one’s children to struggle through what one has suffered. But, of course, we are where we are.)
“I don’t care what others think,” especially for adolescents, translates more readily as “I don’t want to care what others think. But I do.”
Awareness of others is so critical, especially in our youngest who are so naturally narcissistic.
It strikes me that knowing one’s own values and living by them makes it easier to effectively important them. One can then say ‘Do as I say’ as well as “Do what I do.” This is where the trust comes in: one must trust that one has done one’s best inculcating one’s child with values; and trust further that one’s best, combined with a child’s inborn goodness, is enough.
The hardest kind of trust.
christina
Jan 22, 2008 at 9:48 pm
Eh. I never fit in. And I got so sick of feeling so horrid because of it that finally, I stopped caring about fitting in and just did my own thing.
Weird, to have a conversation with one of the wildly popular girls, fifteen years later, and discover that she thought I was one of the cool ones. You never know, do you…
So yeah. I want the KoE to be the leader, the one whose judgement is sound, whose kindness is legendary, whose sense of humor keeps folks smiling while he stands as an example of how to be, without conforming to how folks think you should be (except, of course, to conform to how your mom thinks you should be!!)
Gah. I just want him to be kind. Stick up for the little guy. Use humor and diplomacy to diffuse and divert potentially negative situations. You know. Be cool.
Healing Mom
Jan 23, 2008 at 12:02 pm
Yes, I still vividly remember the day this happened with my now 11 year old son. One of his playmates said, “I don’t like so-in-so because he is black.”
The expression on my son’s face immediately morphed to a combination of confusion, disgust, and, well, for lack of a better word, “DUH!”
Then my son said to his buddy, “That’s SO dumb! He is really fun to play with. Who cares if he is black?!”
I’d never been prouder of him, except maybe the day that summer he got out of the pool to use the restroom. Atta boy!
Annie
Jan 23, 2008 at 8:27 pm
Thanks for this posting! I’ve had concerns about this for a while since my son is from a “Black Daddy” (that he has never even seen) and a “White Mother” (euh, that would be me!). He is almost three now and never noticed anything. He is lucky enough to go to daycare with 4 other kids from different ethnic background (Phillipino, Columbian, Camerounese and Canado-Italian). I’ve tried to surround him with friends who are different, whether its the color of their skin or their abilities/disabilities. I know one day will come when someone calls him name and tell him he is Black, but I am prepared to face that. I invented a little story of my own, where a bunch of cats (all different in colors and shapes) have kittens together and they are still only called cats, nothing else, no matter the color. There is only one human race and even between two “white” persons, the shade of skin isn’t the same. If I go to the tanning salon, I become darker, what does it make me? I’m still his mother!
christina
Jan 23, 2008 at 9:27 pm
Annie, I hope your little guy is always confident enough in who he is to brush off the idiots he’ll encounter in his life. :) No matter what, the King of Everything will be his friend!
christina
Jan 23, 2008 at 10:40 pm
Healing Mom, thanks so much for the giggle and the story. You’ve got an amazing little guy.
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