Colorblind Nation

That was my idea, but it is not going to work. I thought that if we not only accepted each other’s differences but also didn’t even see them, then we could fight hate, prejudice, and anti-Semitism in the country. Parents of my generation, all that I know, are raising their children to accept differences and not pre-judge by any stereotype, leading to each generation being more tolerant than the last. In my home, I thought I would do this so spectacularly well that my child would not even see color, and she didn’t for the first three years. At three, I knew she saw color but no implications of it, when she told me that when she grew up she was going to have dark beautiful skin like her friend and marry a girl. I just told her that she could be whatever she wanted to be when she grew up and hugged her. Imagine how wonderful her three-year-old world was when anyone could change the color of their skin whenever they wanted.

Now she is six and I have to accept sadly that we shall perhaps never be a colorblind nation. When describing people she uses color as another way to describe them, white or African-American. I told her that I am not white, I am pink, and I think it is true. White to me is a historically negative label. It dismays me that she chooses to use what is most obvious in her descriptions, although to ignore what is most obvious as I do perhaps is not the answer either. My child got a new student in class and she told me that she is African-American, and I said, “So… is she nice?” Right or wrong response, I don’t know. She told me that she is nice, and she thought they would be friends. Later after thinking about it, I asked her after why she thought it was important that she told me the new student was African-American instead of telling me what color hair she has or something. She said it was important because we have to help her learn English because they speak a different language in Africa and just because someone is different than she is doesn’t mean that they can’t be friends. And that her friend “Sally” is different because she is blind and it is harder for her to play, but she doesn’t care that she is different than she is, because she is her friend.

Well, she may not be colorblind, as I thought I would raise her, but she does not see that someone was different from any majority, just different from herself, and I think that is a very important fine line. I can’t teach her to be colorblind, but I have taught her that people who are different from us can be our friends. As long as she hasn’t learned somewhere to seek out differences in people and use that as a reason not to be friends, than she is okay. Living in this society, even as a hopefully enlightened adult, I do not know if I even do and say the right things. When my old neighbor from Africa came to visit and asked if my new neighbor was African I said, “No, she’s American.” But perhaps I should have said, “She’s African-American but from Boston, not straight over from Africa like you.” I didn’t though, and over thought after (as I tend to do) wondering if I answered her question correctly, not knowing why she asked. Did she want to know where she came from, or the color of her skin? If truly the color of our skin is not important, than why do I think it is important that friends who are new to this country have friends that look like them, just as I have sought out and made friends who believe in the same things I do. It helps one not to feel alone or to be homesick. So I do not know, sitting here and writing this I am starting to think that I will keep watching my child and I will follow her lead because it seems she may have some things to teach me because she is not colorblind, but she thinks different colors are beautiful.