Recently my students were reading Martin Luther King's famous speech, "I Have a Dream." As excited as I was to share such a momentous time with my ninth graders, I was also a little scared. What could I possibly do or say to make them understand? Lord knows I didn't when I was their age. But I wish I did. We sat together in the darkened classroom to watch King deliver his message, and as he spoke these words--"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character"--my heart fluttered and goosebumps covered my skin. Yes I thought, listen. All day those words ran through my head and I kept seeing my daughter's face. Her gorgeous skin that becomes the softest shade of caramel in the summer. Her full lips, round cheeks, and button nose. Her blue eyes, and her blonde, kinky hair. My beautiful, biracial daughter. And I asked myself, how will I teach her this lesson? How will I give her this history?
Hannah's life so far has been cocooned by my protection. She knows only love and kindness. Sure, we've noticed a few angry glares in our direction, but she doesn't see that. She is completely innocent to the hatred of this world. I'm not fooling myself that this will last. One day she will have to face this beast head on and I want her to be ready. I want to build her up before anyone has a chance to tear her down. And I want her to believe that she has no reason to feel shame about any part of who she is. My daughter is black. My daughter is white. And that duality is beautiful. Because for every person who sees her biracialism as a reason to hate, there are a dozen more who love her for the same reason. Almost fifty years ago Martin Luther King shared his dream with our nation. Today my daughter is that dream incarnate. Her blue eyes and full lips are a symbol of a love far greater than just that between her father and me. Her life is a symbol of the love that burned in the hearts of every person who refused to live in a racially segregated county. Men and women risked their lives and were killed so that we wouldn't live divided. My child, she means so much. And I see it now, in the soft aged eyes of those who believed and fought for freedom. They stop to ask a question, to touch her hair and smile. I see a "thank you" in their gestures. Not for me, but for God in letting them see this day.
So yes, Hannah will meet a lot of ugliness in her lifetime. But I want to teach her to see the beauty first. I will share the stories of our history with her. I will be the one to give her Rosa Parks, the freedom riders, and Martin Luther King. I will fill her mind with heroes and heroines that belong to her. I will surround her with role models that she can relate to, because she should not feel alone. And I will love all of her, even the parts that are different from me. I will give her a safe place to be all of herself and the freedom to decide what that means. And I will pray for the wisdom and determination to show her how to be a strong, confident woman even when the world doesn't want her to be.
My daughter will understand.
Hannah's life so far has been cocooned by my protection. She knows only love and kindness. Sure, we've noticed a few angry glares in our direction, but she doesn't see that. She is completely innocent to the hatred of this world. I'm not fooling myself that this will last. One day she will have to face this beast head on and I want her to be ready. I want to build her up before anyone has a chance to tear her down. And I want her to believe that she has no reason to feel shame about any part of who she is. My daughter is black. My daughter is white. And that duality is beautiful. Because for every person who sees her biracialism as a reason to hate, there are a dozen more who love her for the same reason. Almost fifty years ago Martin Luther King shared his dream with our nation. Today my daughter is that dream incarnate. Her blue eyes and full lips are a symbol of a love far greater than just that between her father and me. Her life is a symbol of the love that burned in the hearts of every person who refused to live in a racially segregated county. Men and women risked their lives and were killed so that we wouldn't live divided. My child, she means so much. And I see it now, in the soft aged eyes of those who believed and fought for freedom. They stop to ask a question, to touch her hair and smile. I see a "thank you" in their gestures. Not for me, but for God in letting them see this day.
So yes, Hannah will meet a lot of ugliness in her lifetime. But I want to teach her to see the beauty first. I will share the stories of our history with her. I will be the one to give her Rosa Parks, the freedom riders, and Martin Luther King. I will fill her mind with heroes and heroines that belong to her. I will surround her with role models that she can relate to, because she should not feel alone. And I will love all of her, even the parts that are different from me. I will give her a safe place to be all of herself and the freedom to decide what that means. And I will pray for the wisdom and determination to show her how to be a strong, confident woman even when the world doesn't want her to be.
My daughter will understand.
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