Talking about Race Matters
While sitting at one of the many round tables on a plush red dining chair in my private, Christian elementary school’s new cafeteria, my brown body sat out of place in a room of mostly white children. Surprisingly though, I didn’t know I was out of place. I mean, I noticed, but I didn’t notice. I had been in this cafeteria everyday and never knew I stood out.
Brittany knew though. Brittany along with many others knew that I was different. Whether her young mind made a logical observation or someone else pointed it out to her, she felt compelled to let me know that my skin was the color of her poop.
There wasn’t anything wrong with Brittany acknowledging that my skin color was different than hers. As a matter of fact, children begin to notice skin color at a young age. Dulin-Keita, Hannon, Fernandez and Cockerham (2011) share that white children as early as six-years old begin associating positive features to whiteness. So it’s completely normal and age appropriate for Brittany to recognize difference. Concurrently, ninety-two percent of black children aged ten or younger experience racial discrimination, and these experiences lead to emotional and mental harm (Dulin-Keita et al, 2011). So again, I assert that this was a normal experience and very much age appropriate.
But does this have to be normal?
As I shared, there isn’t anything wrong with Brittany’s acknowledgement of our different skin colors. The issue, however, is that Brittany could not think of anything else in her second grade mind to compare my skin to other than her poop. Brittany didn’t think of tree stumps, our music teacher’s upright piano or even the brown table top we were eating our lunch on that day. Brittany couldn’t think of anything else but her own feces.
While I held back tears and reminded her that God loved me too, I went home that night with questions. These were questions that my mother had to quickly prepare to answer. Brittany taught me that my skin color has implications in this world, and my mother was left to explain the meaning of those implications.
This experience is just as defining and normal today as it was nearly 30 years ago.
Over the years, I have wondered if Brittany remembers this moment or knows the innocence she stole from me that day. Does Brittany know the weight of her comments? Was I the only child with whom she imparted her observations of difference?
I wonder who Brittany is today. Has Brittany continued through life seeing black skin as comparable to her waste? Does Brittany lead teams of people? Does Brittany have diverse friend groups? Where does she live? What does she do? What would she think of my skin today?
I hope Brittany went home that night and told her parents what she said to me. I hope they responded by giving her a history lesson on race in America and sharing the opportunity she carried as a white child to utilize her privilege to shed light on racial injustices and hold others accountable to challenge systemic racism.
But, those are just hopes. What I know to be true is that Brittany did not respond to the hurt on my face and reply with an empathetic apology. She never even came back in the days to follow with an apology.
She just left.
Brittany left me with this very vivid memory and the responsibility to do something with it.
Dulin-Keita, A., Hannon, L., Fernandez, J. R., & Cockerham, W. C. (2011). The Defining Moment: Children's Conceptualization of Race and Experiences with Racial Discrimination. Ethnic and racial studies, 34(4), 662–682.
