So, first off, let me apologize for the ramblings that are about to pour forth. I don’t have the time or energy to organize my thoughts at the moment. It’s been a long week, which is funny, because Cayla has probably had her best week ever. I credit it all to the Jump-o-Lene, but more on that another day. For the first time, Cayla was able to manage one of her ensuing “anger fits” and actually take a “time out” in her room (without tearing it to pieces). See, I can’t resist! Collin, on the other hand had a rough, rough week. On Monday, he hit Cayla at school and had a 20 minute temper tantrum. On Wednesday he kicked a classmate because he was mad that his car didn’t have a steering wheel. Needless to say, he stayed home with me today and I think we’re back on track. Keep your fingers crossed. But, I digress again.
I don’t write about race and racism and raising black kids much here, which is ridiculous, because it’s basically all Flannery and I talk about. I suspect I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing or feel I need to polish my thoughts. However, I warn you – it’s unpolished tonight.
Our friend, Susan was visiting last weekend. She asked Flannery if the kids ever expressed a desire to be white (or at least I think that’s what she asked – sorry, Susan, if I got that wrong!). “No”, Flannery replied. They know that their skin is brown (chocolate in their words) and that , “Mama and Queso have the same skin and it’s the same as Rosie’s and Julie’s”. They know that they are black or African American and that their ancestors came from Africa. And they know that Flannery and my ancestors came from Europe.

Wouldn’t you know, less than 24 hours after Susan asked Flannery this question, Cayla turned to Flannery on the subway and said, “Queso, I wish I had skin like yours.” Flannery later told me that it broke her heart. She, of course, held it together, said something neutral like, “Oh really?” and added that she loved Cayla’s beautiful brown skin. Of course, Flan and I talked about it for hours. Really, there is nothing surprising about it. Flan plays hockey, Collin wants to play hockey. I put my hair in a ponytail, Cayla wants her hair in a ponytail. Flannery works on the computer for 23 hours a day, Cayla punches keys on her laptop, “I doin’ e-mail like ‘Teso. I wear jeans, Collin wants to wear jeans. So Flannery and I shed the knowledge that we live in a horribly unequal country in which racism is very much alive. And instead of a looking at it as a black girl saying that she wished she were white, we looked at it as a daughter wanting to be like her mother. Are we in denial – probably. Or, are we hyper sensitive – yes, probably that too. But, unless we hear it again or see signs that Cayla’s self-esteem is dipping, we won’t worry too much. We also don’t want to make a big deal of what she said. Once she realizes how charged her statement was, she’ll realize how charged her statement was and really desire it. So for now, we’ll keep working to ensure she has relationships with people of color (and us as well!) and lots of images of beautiful brown people in her life (think books, toy, etc.)

Fast forward one week and one day. While driving home from music class, Collin (who didn’t hear Cayla’s earlier statement) while crunching on a cashew dropped this bombshell, “Mom, I want skin like Libby’s”. Libby is the cool, 5-year-old, white girl in music. So, after I picked up my heart from the floor of the car and slammed on the brakes to avoid a Tuesday evening accident, I nonchalantly said, “Oh I wonder if she wants skin like yours?” And then, Collin-the-talkative, engaged me in a 45 minute discussion of skin color and everything that goes with it. At one point, when the conversation lulled, Collin said, “Mom, I want to keep talking about what we were talking about.” (As if we had stopped talking about it.) “And what was that?”, I said. He replied, “You know, how I want skin like Libby’s.”. Arggggg . . . apparently the conversation hadn’t swayed him. So what did we talk about? We talked about how people often want what they don’t have. Only kids want 8 siblings. Kids with 8 siblings want to be only kids. Kids who live in apartments want to live in houses and kids in houses think apartment living is really neat. I told them that when I was in middle school I wanted straight hair like my best friend and she wanted curly hair like me. And then I kicked myself in the head when Cayla pipped in with, “Yeah, I want hair like you too, Mama, just like Jill did.” Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!! We talked about things you can change about your body like hair styles, and nail polish, and clothes, and piercings. We talked about things you can’t change like how tall you are, and the shape of your body, and your skin color :). And finally we talked about people they know who have skin like theirs. We also talked about all our friends who have parents with different skin colors (yahhhhh! We love you all!). Collin went through his class telling me what color skin everyone had. I found it interesting because he classified the Chinese kids as having skin like mine and Flannery’s. It’s all very visual for him. He wasn’t interested in culture or country of origin – just color!

That’s it, thanks for listening. We’ll keep you posted. Thoughts and ideas and suggestions welcome. Goodnight.