Member-only story
What Race Am I?
Who decides what my racial identity is?
When I was a child, I was not allowed to be friends with children of color.
This was an unspoken rule. Like so many of the rules that governed my world, I didn’t figure it out at first. I didn’t know what a person of color even was. All I knew was that first when I was five, then six, then eight, then nine, girls who seemed like real candidates for my best friend disappeared from my life without a trace. I thought for the longest time they pulled a vanishing act on purpose. It took a long time before another thought occurred to me.
I realized that my friends, like me, were simply trapped in a historical reality they could not control. They were not the ones making the decisions. They were not choosing to leave me.
My mother was choosing, on my behalf, to leave them.
As soon as my mother met their parents, visited their homes, saw their families and their skin color in context, we never had another playdate. In some cases, that meant I literally never saw my best friend ever again.
Racism really does impact everyone. I’m sure that these girls bear scars that run much deeper than mine do. I’m sure their experiences of rejection are sharper and certainly, if you only listen to one of us, please listen to their stories…
