MLK and a voice

One day I picked my three year old daughter up from her Montessori pre-school and listened as she regaled me with a story from her morning. In the telling of the story, she referred to one of the students as, "Sarina, the little brown girl." Immediately, I cringed. I thought I had done a great job in teaching my children to look through rainbow colored glasses, to love everyone no matter their race, religion, or sexual orientation, but suddenly here was my child doing just the opposite.

I immediately launched into one of my I-shall-set-this-kid-straight-with-an-important-lesson talks. I ranted on about how everyone was equal, how we shouldn't judge by the color of their skin, how love conquers all. I went on and on even quoting Martin Luther King, and at the end I suggested she refer to Sarina as the brown haired girl. My daughter took a breath at the end of my speech and started again. "So Sarina, the little brown girl,..."

Brown to her was a description. Her friend was Indian, but that word didn't mean anything to her at three years old where the color brown did be it her hair or her skin, and so to distinguish her from the other kids she was talking about she used "brown". She also used "big ears" to describe a boy in the story. It was one of many lessons she taught me, and I like to think it was the beginning of her fight for social justice.

Yesterday I marched for the first time in the city's Martin Luther King Parade. Our church marches every year, but every year the words "two miles" scared me off. This year, since losing weight is part of my resolutions, and since I plan to march on Saturday in the city's Women's March, I got up and joined our congregation. One high school's marching band led the parade and my daughter's high school marching band brought up the rear. In between were organizations, churches, leaders, and school board members. We held signs. We waved to supporters who lined the streets. We sang along with the bands. We marched for peace, and love, and human rights. It was a beautiful day, overcast and not too hot, and it wasn't two miles but a little over one mile. I felt so accomplished when I was done.

We ended in the park where we listened to messages of hope, love, peace, and diversity,  We listened to music. We cheered speakers. I don't kid myself that my one march will bring about change, but it is a start. I'm tired of just talking. I want to do more. I want to be a part of bringing about change, to get others to listen, to stop the hatred. I like feeling that I have a voice. That just maybe, someone, even if it's just one person, will hear me. My post for our church can be found here.