Simple, right?

My oldest son is seven and has begun to understand that racism exists in the world.  He’s coming at it from a place of innocence still (for which I am so grateful) and the questions he asks or statements he makes aren’t politically correct.  But he’s still thinking and figuring and asking.

He’s also still pretty literal about color; like his little brothers. 

We’re not “white”.  We’re peach.  The idea of a person being “black” was weird to him because he’d never seen a person with black skin, only brown.  Totally logical. 

So the first time he called somebody “black”, I asked where he learned it.  He said from a friend at school and then told me because so and so is black and he told me that’s what you say. 

Simple, right?   

About a week ago we had a conversation about “black” versus African-American.  He thought they were two different things.  Why would you need more than one way to describe somebody?  So we talked about it.  And I had to think about it.  Because how do you explain something to a child when you’re not totally clear yourself?

First, you say a quick prayer. 

Then you’re honest. 

You tell them it can be confusing and that if your friend says “black” then you can too BUT if someone says they don’t like that word, and they want you to call them “African-American”, you do it. 

“Why?”

Because they get to tell you if certain words hurt their feelings.  It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand.  They don’t like that word, and you don’t want to hurt them, so you stop.

Simple.

Right?

It’s easy to teach your children that there are people in the world that hate other people just because of the color of their skin.  And how horrible and wrong it is.  And how much it hurts God because we were all created in that image. 

That part is easy because then there’s a bad guy.  And they understand bad guys.  The bad guys want to hurt other people and don’t care about doing the right thing.  They’re mean and rude and say bad words and we don’t want to be like bad guys. 

And they are often easy to spot.  Sometimes they’ll take you by surprise but the bad guy will, in the end, always show that they are a bad guy. 

Simple…

Except when it’s not.

How do you teach your children about the other side of racism?  The insidious side.  The “accepted” side.  The “I’m not a racist but…” side. 

How do you teach them that certain words are wrong?  Just plain wrong, but people will still say them.  But you can’t say them, and you won’t say them.  EVER. 

How do you teach them that jokes aren’t funny?  Except when they’re done by a professional, then they’re funny.  Except when they’re not.  But the jokes are funny when they’re done by a person of that race.  Except when they’re not.  That humor is humor.  Except when it’s not. 

How do you teach your kids to describe a person without mentioning the color of their skin? Because that shouldn’t be something that you notice.  Except that you should notice it because you don’t want to ignore any part of them.  Except that you don’t want that to be how you first define someone.  

How do you teach them to respect someone’s culture and love it and take a piece of it with you without taking a piece of it with you?

How do you teach them that when it comes to romance that skin is just skin?  No matter the color.  The old lies that there are genetic differences beyond the skin are just that, LIES. 

How do you teach them that even the words we use, RACE, are actually incorrect?  There is one race, ONE.  The Human Race and we’re all running it together.  We may have different genetic backgrounds but we aren’t elves and dwarves and giants and wizards.  Or dogs and cats and birds and fish.  We’re all made of the same stuff. 

And then how do you teach them that are people that disagree with that statement? 

Some just on a basic level.  They don’t harbor any reservations about love or friendship but they don’t like that terminology.   

Some on a “they shouldn’t mix” level.   They’ll be kind and preach against others and be friendly.  But they won’t celebrate together.  Or worship together.  Or let their children love each other. 

Some on a “get along in society but I can say what I want in my home” level.  They’ll shake hands or happen to keep them full just in time to not touch.  They’ll smile but never hug.  They’ll be on a team with but never be friends.  They’ll not accept a loved one or friend that does love one different than themselves. 

And some on a level so strong they’ll kill strangers.  With muskets.  Or knives.  Or whips.  Or fire.  Or rope. Or guns.  Or cars.  Or bombs.   They’ll speak out against them and call them dogs or beasts or ‘things’.  And they’ll count you among them just for disagreeing.  But you have to disagree.  You HAVE to.    

How do you teach it?  How do you ward against it?  And how do you teach the love of Jesus that can overcome and unite all of it? 

…I’m truly asking. 

This isn’t an essay to offer solutions.  Except maybe one…

I know that I can’t handle all of this.  I can do a lot of it, I really can.  I’m pretty smart and if I choose to be intentional about something I can get it done.  But I can’t do it.  At least not alone.

But with my husband?  Who is smarter than I am?  Us on the same team?  Pretty great.  But I know we can’t cover it all either.  We can’t.  I can’t.  We’re only human.  We can’t fight against history and society and traditions and human, albeit fallen, nature. 

And thank God we don’t have to. 

This is where you need God.  THIS. 

This is where you ask for help in an area that is rife with pitfalls and pain.  Trusting in the Creator of the Universe, the Creator of US, to direct your lessons.  This is where you ask the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit to put the words in your mouth and heart when you don’t have the answer.  This is when you beg protection on the journey for them to meet those that will encourage and reinforce the teachings of Jesus. 

Jesus who got thieves and murderers and racists to not only get along, but to love each other.  And to love others.  And to be a beacon for that love.  The true love of God.

I can’t do it by myself.  And thank God we don’t have to. 

So I guess there is an answer to those questions.  How do we teach it?

We pray and then we just do. 

Even if it comes in the form of random, blunt statements.

This Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  My seven year old was talking about it and what he learned in school about it and my five year old twins overheard. 

“Why did they kill him?!”

…and away we go again. 

Deep breath.  Deep, quick, prayer.  And answer. 

Followed by, “You know you can be friends with whoever you want, right?  It doesn’t matter the color of their skin.  You can be friends with anyone you want…and you know what?  It doesn’t matter the color of skin of who you want to marry.”

One set of eyes look at me, the other two are still putting away their backpacks.

“I can marry a wife with different skin?”

“Yep.  Brown skin, black skin, white skin, peach skin.  It doesn’t matter.  She just has to love Jesus and be kind.”  

“Okay.”  And the conversation is over.  They run off to play and I’m left praying that they remember this, and all the other millions of conversations like it, for the rest of their lives. 

Simple, right?