As I was tucking my twelve-year-old into bed tonight, he asked my plans for tomorrow since he and his siblings are going on a little road trip with Dad. I told him I was baking a cake for a get together with some friends, working in the garden, and writing a blog post or two. He asked what I would be writing about—another staycation post maybe? No, I said, I’m going to write something about race and teaching kids about it.
He was quiet for a long time. I asked, “You know what I mean, right?” More silence. Finally, “Yeah, I just don’t know if you’ve ever taught me anything about that. Maybe you taught Ava.”
Ouch.
Considering that my kids’ skin color is not so much like mine, considering that I’ve been asked more times than I can count “where I got them,” considering the time and place we live in seems to be perpetually charged with racial tension, I think endlessly about what I teach my kids about race. How could this have happened? So I dug a little deeper.
“What do you think we think about race in our family? Have you learned anything about it just from how we act or talk in our family, things you’ve heard me say, or anything…?”
More silence….great, maybe we can talk about sex instead? How about a lesson on making babies? Masturbation? Menstruation? Anyone? Anyone? Deep breaths….
“I’m thinking.” Whew. “Well, I don’t know if you really taught me, but personally I think that everyone needs to be treated the same. I know that doesn’t always happen, but it should.” Well, I guess I’m doing something right.
“And we make fun of the races,” he added. WHAT?! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!! Clearly, I’ve driven this thing off into a ditch. Oh crap, what have I done? How did I screw this up so badly?!?
Ok, calm face…”What do you mean? Can you give me an example?”
“Like the technology joke. You know, put your wet phone in the rice so it will attract the Asians who will come in the night and fix it.”
“Ok, what about another example?”
After some thinking, “Nope, that’s pretty much it. We really only make fun of Asians.”
“And since your part Asian, how does that make you feel?”
“Fine. It’s pretty funny. It’s funny ’cause it’s true. Well, only true sometimes though. Ama (AKA Grandma) could not fix a phone even if she tried. She can barely call me on her phone.”
So, perhaps I haven’t run us off totally into a ditch on the whole race lesson, but I could clearly be doing a better job. When the uncertainty of what to say overwhelms me, I end up saying nothing. While I’m fairly sure my kids have learned to be respectful of differences, to speak and act kindly to others regardless of their race, to include everyone when given the opportunity, this issue is a whole lot bigger than that. There’s so much more I want them to know. So much more that they need to know.
I look back and remember questions from my kids that I couldn’t, or just didn’t, answer. Either I didn’t know the answer, didn’t feel like my answer was good enough, or didn’t know how to explain it to a six-, seven-, or eight-year-old. “Mom, why does it seem like whenever someone doesn’t have enough money at the grocery store (which happens pretty regularly at our grocery store), they have dark skin?” “Why is that one kid is in trouble at school every single day?” “Why did Aunt C. get mad at you when you told her to stop saying that word? Why can’t she say that word?”
How does one explain stereotypes to a little kid? How does one explain privilege to a little kid? How does one explain the heritage of poverty to a little kid? How does one explain the profanity of hate to a little kid? How does one explain things to a little kid that I am just starting to understand myself, after twenty or more years of being an adult, after twenty or more years of listening and learning?
And who am I to talk about it anyway? A woman who grew up in family where certain members used (ok, use) the n-word on occasion? A mom who is just grateful that her Asian sons will likely never fear more than a speeding ticket when stopped by the police? A wimp who just told her crazy step-sister to stop saying that word because there were children in the room and didn’t say all the other reasons she should stop saying it? The lady whose dinner table isn’t exactly surrounded by a smorgasbord of skin colors when we invite friends to potluck?
So instead, I have mostly been silent on the issue and tried to teach simply by being a good example. That isn’t enough. Even though my thoughts may have been filled with concern for how and what I was teaching my kids about race, my lack of words on the subject have instead taught my children that it isn’t important. That was not my intention at all.
In addition to setting an example, they need to hear my answers and explanations, as imperfect as they may be. I do not know everything, but I can share what I do know. I don’t know all the right words, but we can still have a discussion and learn as we go. Seriously, have we had the perfect conversation about death? Or religion? Or sexuality? Or divorce? Or any of the tough subjects? No. Because I don’t know all the things. I don’t need to know all the things to talk about them. It’s an ongoing conversation, just like all hard conversations are.
We do not live in a world where I can stand to be silent on this issue. I need to be more than an example of good behavior. I must be an example of how to listen, how to ask questions, how to be an active learner, how to engage in conversation that builds understanding, community, and peace, and when necessary, how to speak up and be heard. And I can teach my children how to do the same as I learn alongside them. We may not speak at a protest, we may not speak on TV, but the words we speak around our dinner table hold power just the same.
