To my son,
It’s another early morning.
As I sit in your room getting dressed, I smile when I see your bed covered in a random assortment of stuffed dinosaurs, Bubble Guppies, and superheroes. I internally chuckle at how each toy brings out your personality, but suddenly there’s a wave of sadness that is slowly creeping over me. When I see this room, I see an innocence, and I know that I cannot keep the horrors of the word away from you forever.
Much too soon you will learn of an ugly thing we adults call “racism.”
You are not going to understand it.
I am 36 years old, and for the life of me, I do not understand it.
Honestly, I never thought you and I would ever have to have a conversation about racism. I was sure this was a problem which your generation would not have to see, but sadly, here we are.
When you look in the mirror each day, I want you to be proud of the person looking back at you. Generations before you have made sacrifices so that you could be here today. Be proud of your last name; I am.
But, son, as you see yourself, please know that the color of your skin does not make you any better or any worse than any other human on this planet.
You are going to be given a label of “white.”
Your friends will be given other labels.
But your momma and I will continue to teach you that people have no labels, and I hope and pray you will always see your friends as you do now through your sky blue two year old eyes.
You are going to hear others tell jokes and use slurs.
This is not OK.
Stand up for what is right, and speak up against this kind of behavior. This will require some courage, but my boy, you are brave, and you are strong. Never stay silent, and never allow evil to triumph.
My wish is for you to be a loving, kind soul who always sees the good inside of everyone.
But at the end of the day, I guess what I really want to say to you can be summed up with one single desire…
I want you to love everyone like Jesus does.
The rest will take care of itself.
Four Six 3 