In Which I Am Not Raising My Kids to be Colorblind

Where I grew up, being White and upper middle class was the norm. I went to school with a handful of kids whose families weren't as well off and an even smaller handful of kids who were Black, Asian, or Hispanic, but I don't remember having any real friends whose skin or whose lives looked significantly different from my own. I guess the one exception would be a friend who is multiethnic, but, with her pale skin, she looks more White than anything else and didn't stand out in our community.

I read a lot, and I was aware of slavery and segregation, but, if I thought about it at all, I imagine I figured that was mostly a thing of the past. I don't remember precisely when I first heard the term "colorblind" in the context of the color of people's skin, but it initially made sense to me. We're all one human race, right? The color of a person's skin shouldn't matter. 

My view began to change when I participated in a spring break urban mission experience during my freshman year of college. I was still pretty new to having claimed the Christian faith for myself, and working on figuring out what being a follower of Jesus meant for different areas of my life. I remember that one of the speakers called us White and Asian kids out for promoting the idea of colorblindness. He said that the color a person's skin is part of their identity, and, if we ignore it, we ignore a part of who that person is.

That trip ignited in me a desire to get to know and understand people of other races, particularly Black people, but I only did so when it suited me. I joined a gospel choir, which kind of served as a defacto Christian fellowship group for some of the Black Christians on campus, who didn't feel entirely welcome in our majority White group (though we didn't try to exclude them). I learned to clap in rhythm and learned a little bit about the Black church. I didn't think or ask anything about the experiences of my fellow choir mates, however.

As I've grown, I've learned more about the systemic racism that Black people, Indigenous people, and (to a lesser extent but still occurring) other people of color experience in American society. I've realized the extent that my immigrant forebears, while still poor initially, benefited from their whiteness in ways that allowed both of my parents to earn PhDs and give me and my brothers an upper middle class upbringing.

So on to my kids,  Mr. Engineer and I have purposely attempted to raise them in a way that will allow them to be exposed to people of different races and economic groups. We live in a neighborhood that's racially and socioeconomically diverse. We sent Squirrelboy to the local elementary school, which was still about 60% White, but still exceptionally diverse compared to my upbringing and Mr. Engineer's (who grew up in a mostly working class but still mostly White city in Wisconsin). Kittygirl, as you may remember, attends a Spanish Immersion magnet school, but her school is also quite diverse. Squirrelboy's high school, which is also a magnet school, is even more diverse, and I'm not even sure it's majority White.

I've talked to my kids on and off (to Squirrelboy more than to Kittygirl) about the White Privilege and encouraged them, as they see opportunity in their lives, to use their White Privilege to help others when the opportunity presents itself. We've raised them to be aware of color and other parts of people's identities, but not to use color as a reason not to like someone. We're working on all of the things in this graphic that I came across on social media recently in the wake of the protests spurred by the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, two people in a long line of Black people killed by police.

When I taught a class about empires through history at Squirrelboy's coop last year, I did some research and included African empires, which had conspicuously been left out of the curriculum with the exception of Egypt.  

I have tried to expose my kids to a variety of books and movies featuring Black people and other people of color (I've done a pathetic job with Indigenous people I must admit), both those that directly teach about injustice and those that simply feature people of other races living their lives. One of my favorite picture books that fits this category is the book JUST ASK by Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotmayor.

The book features children of a range of ethnicities as well as a range of dis/abilities growing a garden together. Sotomayor, who is Hispanic and who has lived with type 1 diabetes since childhood, did an amazing job (along with the book's illustrator) of exposing kids to the idea that our differences are something to be celebrated, not something to be hidden. 

I've also talked to my children about the recent protests, some of which have happened in our city, and  the injustices that preceeded them. The years, centuries really, of injustices, not just the most recent deaths. Squirrelboy wants to be a filmmaker and he says that he wants to make films that make a difference. It's hard to tell when your teenager is listening and taking your seriously, but still I encourage him to consider using his privilege as a White, heterosexual, cisgender Christian male to make movies that might help change the world for the better for those suffering from systemic racism and other prejudices ingrained in our society.

All this might make you think I'm presenting myself as a hero and a role model for all White upper middle class parents to follow. I'm not. I'm sure I'm doing better than some, but I'm also not doing as well as others. If some of the things I've done serve as a model for you, awesome. If you have suggestions of how I can do better, even more awesome. 

We all have a lot of work to do. I hope and pray that my children are part of a generation that makes more progress than we ever have before, and I hope that what I'm doing now will help make that happen.