Four words that chill my heart. We had adopted our biracial son when he was 15 months. Now, at four years old, he had come in from playing with his friends and asked Mom, “am I black”? Am I black?, as if there was something wrong with black. As if white was better than black. Proudly, we replied, “yes, you are black”. I placed my arm next to his and said, actually, you’re more brown than black. “Look at me. People call me white, but I’m more pink than white”. “Mom, am I black?” Four words that speak of bigotry and hate, words from the mouth of a four year old, who should never have had to ask that question.