When the little ones in your life teach you a lesson

Previously published in 

The Dispatch
GateHouse Media 

When I tried to explain to my freshly 5-year-old buddy that people once were unable to go to school or pools together because of their skin color, Calvin looked at me with that child-like smirk of disbelief. As I held my brown fingers next to his lighter ones, he said in a dense and lippy tone, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Calvin was right, “But unfortunately, it’s true.” Our conversation unfolded on the eve of a visit to his preschool class’ celebration of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Calvin’s mom, Kelly, and I have been calling each other "sister" for almost a decade. We’ve shared in family dinners, holidays, heart-breaks, successes, failures and a heap of stories that would make our parents blush. In fact, I was one of the sisters in the waiting room when Calvin was born. His teacher, who reads this column, asked her if I’d speak about the MLK holiday. I am accustomed to writing about cultural and historical figures, but it’s been awhile since I’ve had a speaking engagement. I’m not sure what made me more nervous: the invitation to speak or the task of trying to explain civil rights to 3- to 5-year-olds.

I turned to social media for ideas — only to find a decorating craft on a toilet paper roll. I am not sure who thought up that idea. (Kelly assures me that preschoolers are likely to come home with anything attached to a toilet paper roll.) I didn’t think anything short of a schoolwide stomach bug could produce enough resources for the activity. There had to be a better way to honor the legacy of a slain civil rights hero.

And then there were lofty guides, produced by people with lots of letters behind their names, with titles like “Talking to Our Children about Racism & Diversity.” The guide encouraged people not to shelter children from the harsh realities of bigotry. “Five- to 8-year-olds begin to place value judgments on similarities and differences. They often rank the things in their world from ‘best’ to ‘worst.’ They like to win and hate to lose. They choose best friends. They get left out of games and clubs, and they exclude others — sometimes because of race, ethnicity and religion,” according to this guide.

With all due respect to people above my pay grade, I only had three to five minutes to share and I was almost certain that it would take me longer to define the word “bigotry” than to explain the benefits of welcoming people of all backgrounds.

The night before the presentation, I had nothing (except a heightened respect for people who effectively communicate with preschoolers on a regular basis). It wasn’t until the morning of the event, when I asked Calvin what I should say about King and his birthday, that it clicked. Calvin’s little face lit up because we both genuinely love a good birthday celebration. In fact, he often invites me to impromptu celebrations for his stuffed animals. We decided that cake, cupcakes, singing and candles would be in order for King.

We also decided that art should be on the agenda, so we printed an outline of King’s face for the kids to color. I had so much to say about the women of the civil rights movement, the new Jim Crow and modern examples of segregation, but I decided to step down off of my soapbox long enough to listen. 

Through conversations with the little boy I’ve loved since the moment his mommy introduced us at the hospital, I was reminded that some lessons are better lived out. I’ve seen more people come together through hospital beds, battlefields, dinner tables and classrooms than soapboxes. The words of Dr. King still echo through history: “I have a dream that one day … little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

Indeed, interpersonal relationships are probably the only way that we will continue to value the lives and opinions of people that appear to be different from us. I will never forget when some of my south Georgia family members, who witnessed brutality against African Americans, began looking at my friendship with Kelly differently. Over the years, living our version of “sisterhood” has challenged their willingness to trust friendships outside of color lines.

Hopefully Calvin has a little more time before having to answer questions about why one of his aunties has a different skin color. For now, I will enjoy experiencing King’s dream through the example of my little friend, who managed to bypass all my complicated explanations about acceptance with a truth summed up in four simple words: “All skin is beautiful.”

The Sisterhood & Calvin