cruel Archives - The Race Card Project

Teaching My Children About Racism – Disturbing!

September 12, 2020February 21, 2021 birthday party, cruel, disturbing, first experience, KY, Louisville, neighborhood, Octavia, racism, son, teaching, tears

Octavia,
Louisville, KY.

In 2014, our 11 year old son would play outside everyday with the neighborhood little boys. Our son was told by the 10 year old friend and next door neighbor his mom said my son could not come inside his house. He was also NOT invited to the 10 year next neighbor’s birthday party. All white kids were outside laughing and playing in the backyard. None of the children of color in the neighborhood was at this birthday party, even though they would play together OUTSIDE every day. Our son was hurt and confused as he looked out the window in tears and watched this eerie birthday celebration take place. He asked us why he did not get invited to his friends’ birthday party. I called the mother next door several times. She never answered nor returned my calls. I made sure our neighbors were home before I knocked on their door, but no one answered. I made these attempts to speak with my neighbor because I needed to make sure I was sure of their character and mindset. I also wanted them to know mine as well. Disturbingly, in September of 2014 we had to explain to our 11 year old son about the ugliness and cruelty of racism.

I will choose who I am.

January 31, 2017February 1, 2017 1% different, 99% same, ability to change, assume, choose, chromosome, cruel, demand respect, different, eco-freak, embrace culture, feminist, High Tech Middle Media Arts, human, I am, Mexican, myth, R.E.A.L. Talk, same, social construct, stereotype

R.E.A.L. Talk,
High Tech Middle Media Arts,
7th Grade Trailblazer

Why people often think that they can only be one thing for their entire life is one of my greatest curiosities.

One of our greatest powers is the ability to change, to be something different.

Choosing to have just one label for the rest of my life has never made any sense to me. Good and bad, black and White, Why does it matter? Why do we look at others and choose to stamp a label on them? We are not products, pre-packaged to your liking. We should aspire to change everyday, into better versions of ourselves. We’re never the same even moment to moment, so why act like it?

If I demand respect I’m a crazy feminist.
If I protect the environment, I’m an eco-freak.
And If I embrace my ethnicity and culture, I am just another Mexican.

We are all 99% the same, why let that puny 1% divide us? We have so much more to offer together. People of all colors should be respected and loved because in the end they are just as human as we are.

“If our eyes saw souls instead of bodies, how very different our ideals of beauty would be.” -Anonymous

Race is a social construct and does not biologically exist. Every person’s genetic makeup and race is created by sheer coincidence. “Race is not biological. It is a social construct. There is no gene or cluster of genes common to all blacks or all whites..” (New York Times). Our DNA is 99.9% the same (The Telegraph) so it would make no sense for race to be biologically possible. Discrete and continuous traits are a great indicator of this, A discrete trait is when you either have it or you don’t (double jointed, attached earlobes, etc.), A continuous trait is when there is a wide spectrum of a trait (hair, eyes, etc.). Skin color is a continuous trait which makes it impossible to say that someone is definitely black or white. This is important because people of all colors should be respected and loved because they are just as human as we are.

“There is no race chromosome that people can point to, It doesn’t exist.”- The myth of race.

To ignore that we are all humans with hearts, hopes and dreams is inhuman and cruel.

Husband Said Last Name Wasn’t Mine

May 8, 2015 Annie, cruel, Hmong, husband, IN, last name, marriage, name, surname, tears

Annie,
IN.

We just got married about 3 months ago. I am Hmong, and he is white. During some sweet talk, the subject of my surname came up. My husband said, “It’s not [your last name] anymore,” with a smirk. I cried. It was the kind of tears that just came, the kind you cry when there isn’t anything else. I don’t know how he could have been so cruel. He later claimed it was meant to be loving, but I had no words for that.

I was infected with racism early.

January 26, 2015 Albuquerque, cruel, elementary school, first experience, first grade, infected, NM, poem, racism, Susan Crandall

Susan Crandall,
Albuquerque, NM.

I was infected with racism early
breathing it in almost
with my first breath.
I was injected with racism early
along with my immunizations,
this one, though, making me prone
to its infection, instead of immune.
Although my mother
tried to teach me otherwise,
racism lives in the voice
floating up from my
gut saying, “You are a woman, alone,”
the word ‘white’ must have
been there too
but smothered in denial.
Each sentence sending him
away was a knife even
though my words
were not cruel.
It lives in the fear
I am ashamed to admit.
I hope not to die
of my infection and take
hope in memory.
My curious child-self
whose hands absolutely itched
to touch the hair of the
little black boy sitting in front
of me in 1st grade.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore
and reached out
Maybe that
is the cure.