Educating My Black Son.

Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash

I’ll never forget the time my son told me that he didn’t want to be black anymore. He was 6 years old and in first grade.

“Why”? I asked, surprised. “Because some people don’t like Black people” he said, sadly. My body filled first with dread and then with anger. “ Who told you that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. “I tried to sit next to this boy at school and he wouldn’t let me because he doesn’t like black people.” I was horrified. My son went on,” He said, that he doesn’t understand why black people can’t be more like white people. I don’t think that was very nice.” My body filled with rage at hearing this. I didn’t need to ask my son the race of the other child because I already knew the answer to this question. My son attended an elementary school that was 98 percent white. He was the only black child in his class and that year, the only black child in his grade.

I took a deep breathe and begin breaking down racial inequality to my six-year-old. We had talked about race many times before this point. But this was the moment when he realized that people don’t just look phenotypically differently from one another, this is when he realized that there is a value associated with whiteness and that others would think of him as lesser because he was not white.

I told my child that this other child was wrong. I told him that he doesn’t have to…