I thought of you today. We were five. Or were we six? We were standing over the large gray garbage can, and you were pealing my orange. You were rushing so we could sit next to one another during lunch.
We would talk about how beautiful we thought the other was and how we wanted to be friends forever. Your dark eyes sparkled as your brown hand grabbed mine and you said, you wanted me to be your girlfriend.
Later, I would be told by the adults in my life that we could not be boyfriend and girlfriend. Not because we were five or six, but because of the color of your skin. And I was told I needed to keep my distance. I was no longer allowed to talk to you. And my heart was broken. Broken because it changed how I saw the world. And broken because I lost a friend.
My heart aches for those children who were broken apart, because all that we saw was a beautiful soul in the other.
You would leave that school not long after. Was it because we tried to be friends? There would be other moments in my childhood where I would be taught to fear, dislike, mistrust, simply because we had different colored skin.
I hate to share this but here it is, there would be times that in my ignorance I would do or say something discriminatory that would reflect the prejudice, stereotypical, racist behaviors I was taught in my youth. I can remember watching films about the civil war and swear in my heart—and sometimes say out loud—that if I lived back then I would stand with the North. Oh, silly child, the north could be just as racist, they just didn’t necessarily own people.
I am thankful that my heart knew it was wrong. I am glad deep down I could see some of the wrong in the midst of how life was…is… There would be a time when I was sixteen where I would yell at a white kid who had proudly proclaimed his father was a member of the KKK. I would get in trouble for making a scene in the library of our private school, but I was happy I took a stand even though I am sure I made mistakes while doing it. And by the way this part of my life was in the north.
My heart aches for the child, the teenager, the young adult trying to navigate, trying to do the right thing in the world of racism but getting it all wrong, so wrong. My heart aches because I wish I would have known more, done more.
But I am not to be felt sorry for. I am not a victim in this tragic tale of remembrance.
My friend, I am sorry. I am sorry I didn’t know better. I am sorry for what I was taught. I am sorry for the many times I didn’t get it right. I am sorry for all the moments that make me cringe. I am sorry I haven’t done more for change. I am sorry for any part I have played in allowing the discrimination to continue, intentionally or unintentionally. I wish I could see you today. Talk with you, and let you know that in my child’s heart I loved you for being you.
I know that today I still have old biases ingrained in me by my upbringing and no matter how open minded, anti-racist, socially conscience I think I am, they still creep in. It is my responsibility to pause, reflect and make sure I am doing my part to grow and change the narrative for my own children. I know that I will mess up, but my hope is that those around me will share what I need to do better, so that I can continue to grow. And I hope they know that in my heart of hearts it is never intentional.
So, my dear friend, I thought of you again today. Wondered about you. Prayed you were alive, that you were well and being shown love – you deserve it simply because you are you.
My hope and prayer is that if we were to meet today, you would still want to be my friend because you would still see a beautiful soul.
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