racism and racial discrimination


Our world is rife with man’s inhumanity to man; racism and violence, racial discrimination, police brutality, tribalism, sexism, and , and and. How do parents, who themselves struggle to make sense of these things help their children process and manage their feelings about such things? How do parents discuss the ongoing protests, riots and political rhetoric with children? Truth. Tell the truth and temper it with child-appropriateness.

A dictionary definition of racism says, Racism is the belief that groups of humans possess different behavioral traits corresponding to physical appearance and can be divided based on the superiority of one race over another.

And racial discrimination occurs when an individual is subjected to unequal treatment because of their actual or perceived race. 

It may be hard to broach such topics with kids, but we have to do it, especially if that kid is likely to find themselves at the receiving end of these biases.

Racism
Talk To Children about Racism. Photo By Canva

My Personal Introduction To A Wicked World

Somewhere in the year 1989, I was a precocious six year old, my favorite past-time, hiding in the shadows and eavesdropping adult conversation. One fateful evening, I heard more than my little ears and innocent heart could contain, my parents and their guests, discussing an impending war in a country quite close to our home country.

They discussed a lot and mentioned names I cared less about, and then, my mother asked a question, “ what about mothers and their children, where will they go? How will a woman escape such violence when the nation’s transport system breaks down?” “They’ll walk. Through the forests, at night, towards neighboring countries or other peace sanctuaries.” One of the guests responded. “How will small children survive such long journeys on foot, suppose a woman has four children like me, the last being six like my Adwoa?” “Monica, it’s war, people don’t just die of gunshots on the battlefield, starvation kills some, medical emergencies does its part, and when  children get exhausted on the escape route, they drop dead and the survivors continue”, I heard my father say. After his answer there was a long, long pause.

Well damn!


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I cried myself to insomnia that night. That night was my rude awakening to the wickedness so rife in our world. What is wrong with these adults? Why are they killing each other and killing children? And who walks away from their child? What if vultures eat the child’s eyes or would stray dogs? Would the mother cry or would she be too dehydrated to have any tears? What about the surviving children, would they miss their dead sibling? My imagination took my fear and confusion and ran wild. It was a long, long, long night.



My mother noticed my bloodshot eyes and my distress the next morning and quizzed me. I narrated my fear about their conversation to her. She knelt in front of me and looked me dead in the face, “that war might not happen, our President and other Presidents are trying to stop it”, she said, “and if it does happen, that war is far, far away from us, so far away it will not affect us in any way. Nobody is going to leave you to die of exhaustion. Go get ready for school.”

Read Also: Dear Black Girl

My Present: Grappling With Racism

It is June 2020, I am thirty-six years old and some, and I have four children of my own. I am an immigrant in the United States, an immigrant mother of four little children. My children and I  just saw thousands of people, of all colors, on TV march in the streets in protest of police brutality, in protest of George Floyd’s murder.

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Adwoa Danso

I am a connoisseur of life stories, and writing is my first love. I believe we can empower, educate and uplift by telling our stories. Writing is my happy place.

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