Black Friends, Perspective, and Other Things

Last night, during dinner time, we went around the table sharing our highs and lows of the day, as usual. The boys were excited about the fact that they were able to play with their friends at the park after school, a break before tutoring and homework afterward. Their lows pretty much had to do with wishing they could have played more with one of their friends in particular. My husband and I shared our successes of the day and how we wished we had been more productive with our time.

Then you have our six-year-old diva. From time-to-time, she has a way of changing our five to seven minute check-ins on each other to a full blown dinner conversation. When it was her turn, she simply stated, “My high is that I have two new friends, and they are black.” Her dad and I looked at each other, wondering if we should comment.

Before we could say a word, one of her brothers asked, “So, why do you have to say they’re black? Why can’t you just say you have two new friends? It doesn’t matter what color they are.”

She then began to school the rest of us at the table about how black her friends really are. “One of them has short hair like you, Mama, and the other one has long, long hair with lots of braids. (Ly) is darker than you, kind of, and (L) is the same dark as you.”

Her brothers then proceeded to ask if either of them is mixed, like them. She continued, stating that having met one’s mom and the other’s dad, as well as one’s sibling, she’s certain that both are fully black. “I think that their families are all black.” She explained that both girls are pretty and nice. I, for one, was very happy to hear this, as her prior school was not very diverse at all. The entire year, at the other school, she complained about how she was the only one not able to wear her hair down, how she wished her hair was straight, how much she hated her curls and braids and being so different. She constantly compared herself to her other mixed friends outside of school who had very different hair from her.

As she continued talking, I could hardly contain myself. She said she loved their hair and the fact that each had curly hair and that even though each had a different hairstyle, she liked how pretty each of their styles were. She even asked if I could duplicate one of the styles on her and stated that after her next shampoo, she no longer wants to straighten her hair, because “I have a lot of hair, and my curls are pretty”. This in particular was music to my husband’s ears, being that he prefers her natural curls and hairstyles.

I think we were both in heaven and ate our meals in silence, as we listened to the children’s back and forth conversation. However, as usual, the conversation did not end there, as our little ones seldom leave good enough alone. One of our sons continued to press on the whole color matter: “So, maybe they are mixed and they have stepmoms or dads.”

To which our darling princess responded matter-of-fact, “I think their moms are black, because I think black women like black men,” to which my husband asked, “Did Mommy marry a black man?”

Without skipping a beat, she put her spoon down, looked at him and replied, “No, but she wanted to.”  I felt like crawling into a hole, as her brothers turned and looked at me in surprise, having being absent during a past conversation she and I had months ago when she first stated that she would NEVER marry a black man and accused me (indirectly) of being a hypocrite, being that I married a white man and was encouraging her to keep black men as an option in the future.

Being less concerned about me and how out-of-context her statement was, she continued, saying, “ I want to get a white man, but he’s probably going to be black.”

To which her brother asked, “Why? I thought you wanted a white man. Why would he be black?”

Being the comeback queen she is, she stated, in-between mouthfuls of soup and Hawaiian bread, “If I say I want a white man, He’s going to give me a black man. If I say I want a black man, He’s going to give me a white man, and I’m going to be like, “YAY!!!”

My husband and I almost choked on our food. To say we have a lot of work ahead of us is an understatement. Why these conversations are even taking place now scares me. What will we be talking about when she’s 15?!?

However, I am happy to know that she is starting to appreciate her natural hair as it is and hoping this leads to other “ah-ha” moments. May God grant us wisdom as this little one slowly but surely approaches the teenage years.