I Wish We Were All Color Blind

I vividly remember the first time I explained to Ana Maria that people had different color of skin. She had come home so excited to let me know that there was a new student in her class and that she had made friends with her so that she wouldn’t be alone at recess. This is the kind of girl my first born is. She’s the kind of girl who accepts and loves everyone, equally, no matter what. Sometimes we tease her and ask her who she loves more, mommy or daddy. She always gets uncomfortable and says she loves us both the same. 

When I asked her what her new friend was like, she immediately said “she’s very nice,” I kept asking questions like did she move from somewhere else in the city or is she from another city? She said she was from another country but couldn’t remember which one. I then naively asked her what she looked like. She said “I don’t know.”  She didn’t seem to have any idea how to begin to describe her. Somehow she finally said she looked like another friend, who is African American. 

So I asked her “is her skin black” and she looked at me puzzled, she then said “I don’t know!” So I went on to ask her if her friend’s skin was darker than mine and hers, she kind of closed her eyes to remember what she looked like and she said “yes” almost like a light went on in her little head. I then realized that we had never spoken to her about differences of people’s skin. 

We had mentioned how Jordan Grace was difference because she has Down syndrome, but even when we tried to explain to her that she was different she kept asking how was she different, she couldn’t grasp that she looked different than anyone else, she had hair, she had eyes, she had arms, I mean she looked like us, she looked like a little girl to her. And when I tried to explain to her that people would see the difference even though she didn’t see it, she said “so what if she’s different” it really didn’t matter to this big girl who had been begging for a little sister in her life. 

Ana Maria has grown up in a very culturally mixed school, which has been such a blessing. The fact that it took her until she was in 4th grade to realize people had different skin colors, I mean, I don’t think she’s color blind, but rather innocent at heart to see any difference. Her very best friends and who she always wants to be around is this very friend we speak of here along with another sweet little lady who is Philippine, and another who is part East Indian. I love that about my precious girl, she bases love on a person’s heart, not where they come from or the color of their skin. 

I wish we could all be this innocent and pure at heart, I wish we were all color blind to people’s skin and I wish everyone was accepted and included no matter what they looked like. Maybe one sweet day...