Yesterday, the girl child comes home with the requisite Martin Luther King, Jr. All-about-me!-type book.
(Note: Before I get called out for not recognizing the sanctity of this day, let me just say that I think Martin Luther King, Jr. did a lot of great things while he was alive, not only for African Americans, but for the country as a whole. That being said, he was just a man. I got very disturbed when both of children, while in the first grade, watched a video that indicated that Martin Luther King, Jr. was sitting up in Heaven, apparently right next to Jesus, on a throne, looking down upon the world in some sort of blessed observation. Um, no. He was a man. A good man, but not a perfect man. A man who did a lot for this country, but not on the same level as Jesus. No one is. Okay? Clear on that?)
Anyway, my daughter had dutifully colored in each picture and written her engaging commentary on each page. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a lovely chocolate color in each drawing. One page showed him and his wife and I noticed that Girlchild had not colored his wife in. I asked her about it and she said, “I didn’t know what color she was, so I left her blank.”
I told her I didn’t think that when he was alive it was even legal for black people to marry people of other colors and her face contorted in horror. Our next door neighbors are a white woman and a black man and they have a beautiful little son and that is her frame of reference. They are just our neighbors, not an interracial couple.
At the end there was a question: Do you think if Martin Luther King, Jr. was alive he would be happy with the way the world is today? Why or why not?
In my daughter’s childish handwriting was written: Martin would be happy because the world is a beautiful, wonderful place full of love.
Oh, to be eight years old and have no concept of hate and war and even the jerks who live up the street who call your mom “fat-ass”.
I like the way that kid thinks.