Ahmaud Arbery
I like to go on walks with my kids.
And they sometimes enjoy it too.
We’ll go on nature walks or adventure walks or “you’ve got too much energy and are going to destroy my house” walks.
But this past month, for the first time, we went on a purposeful walk. A walk that meant something. A walk that I hope will stick with them for the rest of their lives.
And I had to explain to them why this walk was important. And because they are small, I had to explain it to them several times.
I had to explain to them that a man named Ahmaud Arbery was killed while he was out jogging. And he was killed because he was black.
They couldn’t really wrap their brains around it. I saw them trying to process it. And they kept asking, “why did they kill him?” “Did he do something wrong?” “Was he a bad guy?” “But why did they kill him?”
Because he was black.
I know people that will be upset that I told my children that. They will be upset that I introduced such a heavy and ugly concept into their world.
And THAT is how white privilege begins in the next generation. Because I had the choice to not tell them anything. I had the choice to not let their world be rocked by such an ugly truth. To let that seed take root so that as they got older, they turned away from other instances, small or huge, because it was ugly and uncomfortable and disruptive to their world.
They found ways to dismiss it. Like thinking “he was a criminal” or “he must have done something wrong” when NO. That’s not the truth. This happened because he was black.
Even now, there are some of you reading this that will try to justify that statement away. To refute it. To find a way to make it fit into your world. YOUR WORLD. Because you have accepted the idea that this world is YOURS.
How are our children to grow up to be any different if we continue in them this gross idea that they are the stars and any people of color are just occasional guest stars or quirky best friends?
All this week while trying to write this piece I’ve come back to the same thought. That I am not qualified to write this. Because I’m not. I’m still raising my children, still figuring all this out.
And because I’m white. It’s almost laughable because as I’m writing this I’m eating avocado toast and drinking out of a little tumbler with a metal straw. That’s how white I am.
So I reached out to a friend and asked her, “what would you tell white children about racism. What would you tell their mothers about raising children that don’t view her children as a threat?” (Did I mention this friend is black? She is. She has raised three amazing children. Two boys and a girl.)
We talked for a long time and these are the top three things she said.
1. JUST LISTEN
Listen. Don’t try to explain away. Don’t try to justify anything. Just listen. Try as hard as you can to remove your emotional bias, take yourself out of the equation, and LISTEN. Listen to the cries. Listen to the pain. Listen to the nonchalant way our brothers and sisters relate these stories because THAT is how common place hatred is in their lives.
2. THINK
Not historically. Not culturally. Not even emotionally. Think logically and methodically. How did we get to this point? What are people saying? Who is the one talking the loudest and trying to tell you WHAT to think? Is it the victim? Or are you paying more attention to the attacker?
3. PAY ATTENTION TO THE SUBTLE
We may teach our children through conversations but they learn, really learn, through our actions. Through the subtle choices we make over and over and over again. Every time you clutch your purse when someone of color walks by. Your children see that. Every time you lock your doors when you come up on a person of color standing on a sidewalk. Your children see that. Every time you shake your head at an accusation of racism. Your children see that.
We are masters at using ‘the subtle’ and then explaining it away because “what, I didn’t do anything!” Or “What? I didn’t say anything!”
Here these words from my friend:
Sometimes it is as clear cut as a grandparent using ugly words to describe an African-American or Asian person or woman. Often, it’s as subtle as children witnessing what happens to my daughter at her job. (I never mention someone’s ethnicity/skin color/religion unless it directly relates to the story’s purpose. It matters in this one so I’m pointing it out.) Regularly, Caucasian customers, wearing specific ideological clothing, won’t respond when my daughter greets them as they enter the store. Many ignore her, completely. Others, look her in the eye, or look her up and down, slightly sneer, then turn their heads. She’s not the type to assume racism. Even if she spots what she’d normally consider a pattern, she’ll look for other possible explanations for people’s behavior but it’s hard to explain that treatment away day after day after day, especially when a couple side-eyes her when she greets them and, on their way out, ignores her when she says, “thanks for shopping!” Then, magically, regain their hearing when her Caucasian co-worker says goodbye and they then turn, look him in the eye, smile and proceed to say, “thank you” and talk about the weather.
Any child spending a significant time with that couple will notice the difference in how civil they are to White people and how they treat Black people with derision. That couple wouldn’t even have to say anything about African-Americans for that child to learn rudeness that is specific to people ‘like her’ or ‘like that’…
And this is subtle. THIS is the situation when someone would defend their actions saying, “What? I didn’t say anything!” And that would be a good enough excuse for a vast majority of white people.
One of the last things she said to me cut to the heart of teaching children about it. She said “getting ‘used’ to each other isn’t enough.” Attitudes and inherent ‘they don’t deserve this’ beliefs need to change.
Or worse. Inherent “they DO deserve this” beliefs need to change.
A woman deserves to have her head smashed into the concrete by police because she’s objecting to being arrested.
A boy deserves to be shot because he looks suspicious. He was wearing a hoodie with the hood up after all and it was dusk.
A teenager deserves to be held at gunpoint for a traffic stop and then shot when he reaches into a car to get his driver’s license that the officer TOLD him to get.
A man deserves to be chained to a truck and driven out of town because he wasn’t leaving our section of town.
A teen deserves to be thrown to the ground and held there, in a swimming suit, because she was arguing with an officer about her right to swim in a pool.
A man deserves to get murdered in the street all the while gasping “I can’t breathe” because it was suspected that he might be a criminal.
And a man deserves to be shot because he was running through a neighborhood and refused to stop when a white man told him to.
“But why did they kill him?”
Because he was black.
The truth is ugly. The truth is broken. And the truth needs to be talked about.
On that walk with my children I told them the truth. What happened to Ahmaud Arbery was wrong. And I told them that we were walking because it was a way we could show the world and our friends and our family and our neighborhood that we knew it was wrong. And it would always be wrong. And we would not stay silent about it.
Was it easy? No. Did I cry? Shattering this corner of their innocence, did I cry? Yes. And I told them why. And we talked about racism and how it’s wrong. We talked about that God made all of us the same. THE SAME. Having a different color of skin or hair or eyes doesn’t change how much God loves you. And how you are not better than someone because they don’t look like you.
And then we talked about how there are people in the world that do think this way. And that they are wrong. And will always be wrong.
This whole passage was supposed to be speaking on how you talk to your children about racism. So here’s my advice:
YOU JUST DO.
Take a breath, beg God for help, beg God for help again, remember that the truth will set you free, and do it.
