What have you done that is so bad? 'I'm black.'

It was 1985 in southern Louisiana. There was a boy. (Every story always starts with a boy.) We had been friends for a couple years. We shared similar interests and hobbies. He respected me. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, he didn't swear, was very intelligent and he had a very strong faith. He wasn't perfect and neither was I. We both did great in school, I was on dance team, he was very involved in sports, I had a job and helped take care of my grandmother, he watched his younger brother while his mom worked. We spent hours on the phone. We were so alike, yet so different. Over time our friendship began to evolve into something more. 

His family loved me and I couldn't wait for him to meet mine. When I would invite him over he would respectfully decline, always making excuses of having homework, responsibilities or practice.  Why won't you visit my family? You are amazing and they will love you!! "I'm protecting you." From what? From who?  I had no idea what that meant. I didn't care. 

He finally met my grandmother and she was crazy about him. He started coming over several times a week and when he wasn't there she wanted to know where he was. She wanted to hear all about his games, his grades, his well being. She encouraged me to take a break from work to go to his games and show my support.  We went to different high schools. We existed in different worlds. I lived in a world that I believed everyone was the same and that people saw each other for who they were. He lived in reality. I was about to understand the difference. 

We became inseparable. People noticed. People talked. I was asked about the nature of our friendship by family, teachers and friends. I proudly told them all about him. I will never forget the reactions and looks of disgust. What did they know that I didn't know? Some of my friends stopped coming over or inviting me over. Some because they didn't want to, some because their parents wouldn't let them. People gave me strange looks, they treated me like I had done something bad, they whispered as I walked by or stopped talking when I walked up. Why aren't they happy? What have I done to them? What have I done wrong? I tried to believe it was just my imagination, but it was real. I didn't understand.

You were protecting me from something. You were protecting me from this. What is this? Who are you? What have you done to others? What did you do that is so bad? What are you? "I'm black." (Insert confused look) I'm not colorblind, I know that. What does have to do with anything? You are crazy. That can't be the reason. That doesn't make sense.  "Michelle, you are special and are going to make a difference in the world, but the world isn't going to be very nice to you. Don't let it change you." He wasn't crazy. That was the reason. I didn't understand. Luckily, some of my close friends didn't understand it either. Some of them never noticed.

It was my first experience with people judging others based on something other than who they are. I wasn't raised that way. It went against everything that I had been taught. Do you mean I can't like him only because the color of his skin is somewhat darker than mine? That doesn't make sense. 'The world will never accept or respect that.' 'What's wrong with you?' 'You are too pretty and smart for this.' For what? What does that mean? 'You will be labeled.' As what? 'What would it do to children born of mixed races? They will never be accepted by any race.' (The irony of that question being asked to me.) I'm a product of mixed races and cultures. My grandparents were darker than his. My family came from Syria, Lebanon, Berwick and Illinois. (How's that for a crazy mixture). His came from a city less than five miles away. Who's different? I had a lot to learn about the world. 

It wasn't easy. I was judged, labeled and treated as though I was the one with a problem. I stood up for my belief that we are all the same. I have raised children to believe the same. 

The narrow minded people found the exit door out of my world. My world became a better place. A place where we were free to be ourselves. A place where friendships were based on common interests, values and respect. A place where no one was judged. The people who stayed are still apart of my life. They are some of the greatest people I know. 

Almost thirty years later the world has changed. Has it? Our generation takes pride in having evolved as a whole. Have we really? 'She's got a great job, she's attractive, but doesn't she have kids for a black guy?' 'I thought she only dated black guys?'  'You hang around with her and people will think you date black guys.' 'She has mixed children-I would have never guessed she was like THAT.' I hear about it all the time. How many times have you heard something similar about someone? Better yet, how many times have you said or thought something similar about someone? Do you ever stop and think about how shallow that way of thinking is? Have you stopped to think about how that reflects on your character?

I've faced it on another level over the years. (Mixed kid problems) I remember when my daughter was ten and was told by a fifteen year old boy that she had to get up and move to the back of the bus. Her kind of people were gross. Who told you that? 'My father.' Why? How did teaching him that make him a better person? She was shunned and ridiculed for 'acting white'.  What exactly does that mean? My son developed a crush on a beautiful little girl. They had been friends since first grade. She was punished recently for showing attention to him on social media. 'What will people think of you? No white man will like you in the future if you like him now!' One child couldn't come to our house because 'my mom doesn't want me hanging out with white folks'.  This didn't happen in the sixties or the eighties. This happened within the last few weeks and years. Many years later and the ignorance remains the same. 

People back then were right. I would become labeled. The people who matter labeled me as a person who sees people for who they are. They have labeled me as a person who doesn't judge others based on the color of their skin. They label me as a person who stands up for herself, her beliefs and her loved ones. I don't remember ever hearing racial slang in our house. I was blessed to have been raised right. That blessing and those experiences did introduce me to a new world. A world of having the greatest friends and family made up of all races and nationalities. A world consisting of love, inner peace and happiness. A world of being able to raise children to learn from their experiences with ignorance. I feel sorry for the people who were raised narrow minded, shallow and judgmental. They have no idea how many amazing people they don't get to know. 

We can change it. Stop pretending it doesn't exist. Stop blaming others. Stop condoning it. Stop ignoring it. We aren't born racist. We are taught it. We teach it. Break the cycle. Make a change. Pay attention to the message you are teaching children. Stop using racial slang. Stop entertaining a media that promotes racial tension. Use your voice to teach a positive message. These children are our future. Don't deprive them of the opportunity to be better than we are.  Be the change you want to see in the world. It starts with us. It starts now.