I read an article by ProPublica’s Topher Sanders about an incident that occurred to his son on a playground. It is something one would think should belong in our rare view mirror. Sanders wrote the following.
They were playing on one of those spinning things — you know, the one where kids learn about centrifugal force and as a bonus get crazy dizzy. They were having a blast. “Only white people,” said a little girl. I heard it, but I wasn’t quite sure that’s what I heard. “Not you, you’re black,” said the girl, reaching out to touch my son. “You’re not white. Only white people can play.”
What to do? How to do it? What to say? How to say it? I couldn’t escape the searing historical parallels of a little white girl telling a little black boy — my son — what he can and cannot do because of his skin color. My instinct was to go over and drop science on her and all of the other little children.
But then my systems kicked in. My automatic scary-black-man recalibration systems. The infinitesimal adjustments that black men employ not only to succeed in school and at work, but also to help us keep it 100, stay woke, all while trying to make white folks feel comfortable enough to keep us around.
Whether it’s turning down your Kendrick Lamar when the white woman gets on the elevator or flashing those disarming smiles at white women you pass at night on the sidewalk, black men learn to present safeness. Why do I always have to make white people feel comfortable at the expense of who I am and my mood and my music and my thoughts?
Walter Scott — and every other unarmed black man killed by police officers — is why. To support a family is why. If I scared the white people at the playground with my reaction, what would be the impact on our little family in Maplewood? Would we be on the next email thread for a play date? Would the other families talk about my son’s angry dad? I made all these calculations in the five seconds after he was told he couldn’t play because he was black.
Then I noticed my son. When the little racist girl reached out to touch him, he moved out of the way and laughed. He kept right on playing. The garbage that came out of that child’s mouth meant nothing to him. Yet. It marks the beginning of what is likely to be a gradual process. One day he’ll wonder why, when he plays with a certain group of friends, he is always the villain. Similar inquiries will follow, until he has his own system of recalibrations and adjustments.
This 5yr old little girl likely had no clue about what she was doing. But she was a reflection of her home and environment. What is sad is that she is picking this up in 2016 at the age of five in the age of Donald Trump.
In my Kingwood, Texas town (Houston suburbs) my daughter was exposed to a few incidents that I know of and likely countless untold others. Of course, her attitude at times coming home from school and talking to her with indirect questions led me to believe the latter.
There are three specific incidents where we acted as parents decisively, but like Topher Sanders said, with measured emotions to get at the issue as opposed to allowing folks to change the narrative to make our response the actual concern. This country is making steady progress on prejudice and racial issues.
Unfortunately, we have a candidate in Donald Trump that is fomenting an environment that activates a somewhat dormant cancer that was in the process of gradual eradication. He singlehandedly extended its life. Too many are being willfully ignorant to what he represents and what he is doing, while others simply seem to lack the necessary empathy for those (some who are their friends) that are directly affected by this candidate.