I have a story to tell you. A story about racism.
I love to take one of the littles after bath time, even when Mama insists on asking me several times, “Do you want to take him? Or do you feel like you have to take him? Are you sure?”
My answer is always the same.
I want to take him because I love them! And it also helps procrastinate my chore of cleaning the kitchen.
Today, Jude got out of the bath first so I got him in his pjs, read him a story, said prayers, and told him Mom or Dad will be in soon to give him a kiss goodnight.
That’s when Jude asked me a question.
Jude: looking at his arm next to my arm. “Why is my skin browner than yours, Sissy?”
me: “Because you’re from Vietnam, Jude”
Jude: “Why are people from Vietnam browner?”
me: explaining it the only way I knew how, “Because that’s the way God made them.”
I dimmed the lights and shut the door a bit, thinking that was the end of the conversation, but as I was cracking the door he decided to sum up his thoughts on the subject.
Jude: “Sissy, what if we turned off all the lights? Everyone would be browner… right?”
me: “Yes, Jude. Everyone would be the same color. Goodnight, I love you.”
That last comment that really caught me off guard. How is it that my 4-year-old brother had captured the
essence and understood the subject of differences in ethnicity?