A series of essays.....
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| BRENNA BAKING COOKIES WITH 'GWANDMA' |
.....as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
Several years ago, when our oldest grandchild was three years old, I sat down and wrote my original Blog entitled, "Daycare Blues." Unfortunately, the story I am about to relate is as sad yet prevalent today as it was in May of 2010......and, regretfully, has been for so many years before this time.
Just as we should always embrace our young sons to respect all girls and treat them as equals, the continuing focus of instructing our young children to acknowledge, respect and accept everyone on this planet as mirror images of themselves is vital to our future existence. Hate, bigotry, disrespect all evolve from one emotion...Fear. Let us advocate Love instead and help alleviate the pain endured by so many families that lose a son or a daughter, husband or wife, all because someone is afraid of the color of their skin.
My story should definitely be a wake-up call for all of us......
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DAYCARE BLUES.....REVISITED IN 2015
Each Wednesday of my rich and wonderful life I am privileged to be with my beautiful granddaughter, Brenna. With the exception of an occasional vacation or two, we have bonded each week for over three years and my Wednesdays are special for me in many ways.
Brenna has recently turned the ripe, old age of three and is participating in her fourth classroom and level of challenges offered by her daycare experience. I have been privy to observing pertinent changes within her personality during this time. Her bastion has actually strengthened with each move she makes so that by the time she enters the public school system, her defenses will be fortified to their highest degree.
She has had to learn to hold her own against the best of them, as well as learn that 'the best of them' can be her very good friends, too. I believe the world better be ready for all of these strong, opinionated and highly motivated children who will be responsible for, hopefully, a better and more loving world in the future.
Her loving spirit, the sweet center of this amazing child, consists of rich and decadent French butter creme piped into the cutest little being I know. When she melts into my arms around eight o'clock in the morning, I know my life is complete and the planets are aligned. My petite cream puff and I are ready for whatever the day has to offer us. Heading the list is a good, hardy breakfast!
"Gwandma, eggies please!?" Upon her request, I proceed to make them with a flourish, accompanied by blueberries or strawberries, wheat toast and milk. She munches away with gusto as I settle down beside her with my tub of Greek yogurt, cup of black coffee and conversation. I ask her how her time at daycare has been so far this week and if she is prepared to tackle the rigors of dance class facing her Saturday morning. Ah, the life of a three-year old!
As I sit here now, I wonder about my own daughters at such a vulnerable young age and if we weren't constantly missing out on some of the underlying factors that contributed towards the adults they had yet to become. Certainly we listened for improper use of the English language and corrected them. We taught them not to chase the ball out into the busy street or talk to strangers. We encouraged the five-steps to advanced learning which included being able to wink, recognizing up from down, whistling, snapping one's fingers and blowing sweet bubble gum bubbles. Naturally, we reinforced the constant progression of coordination and talent all taught within the confines of their highchair during meals. Everyone loves a captive audience!
Is it possible to even recall being three years old again ourselves? It can be quite a stretch for most of us until we are reintroduced in time by our own children and grandchildren. We conjure-up the wonderful memories of a distant Christmas morning surrounded by so many presents to open or, the more painful times of when an older brother would bend your arm behind your back and make you cry while your parents were off in another room. Ah, the interesting life of a three-year old!
It is precisely because I can recall many of the pivotal yet innocent moments of my own early childhood that what I was about to hear from Brenna affected me so deeply. Brenna told me during breakfast that morning that she didn't like Shout anymore. Shout is one of the main characters in her new favorite television show called Fresh Beat on the Nick Jr. channel. I was a bit confused by this because this show was what she and I had been watching and talking about for the past few weeks. She never takes her 'Nick' characters lightly so, out of curiosity, I asked her why she was discounting Shout all of a sudden. "I don't like his hair," was her instant reply. His hair, being short, a bit kinky in texture and black in color aroused my suspicions even more. I held my tongue and allowed her to say what was on her mind.
"He's black and I'm white and I don't like him anymore," came rolling out of her tiny mouth mingled with as much innocence and sincerity as a small child can muster. Her words floated across the table at me as if I were in a dream state and I tried to contain my composure as my 'baby' was now pointing at her thin, white arm while instructing me in the knowledge of opposite skin tones between her tiny appendage and Shout's similar one. Yes, similar but not exactly the same.
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| INNOCENCE Picture Courtesy: pixshark.com |
Are children her age even supposed to care if their arm is a different color from someone else's arm? Does society reach out to our very young and infuse such striking negativity into their young hearts and minds? I now know that the answer to this is a resounding.....yes! Somehow, someway my granddaughter had been told by persons unknown to myself that her skin color was superior to other skin tones. My heart was encased within a fragile shell of fine glass and ready to break into a million pieces..... This conversation should not be happening already and yet, it was.
The best tact I could take at this point was not to question the root of this assumption, but rather to help dispel it by offering her as many positive alternatives as I could come up with. I asked if she had black children in her daycare class. She did. I asked her if she played with them and if they all got along well together. They did. I asked if the character named Shout on television ever said or did anything to upset her. He had not. I asked her to name some of the good things she thought of when seeing Shout and she immediately replied that he sings and dances and makes pretty music. Good.
Then, once again, with a small finger pointing to her arm she reiterated, "My arm is white and Shout's arm is black!" She was most emphatic about the difference in color between their arms, coupled with a negative emphasis regarding the character of Shout himself. Was it time to ask her who, if anyone, might have pointed this explicit difference out to her? Oh, how my poor heart was ready to crash and burn!
We continued to discuss other personages in her life who might have positive influences on her whether they were black, white, tan, red or blue.....thinking of Elmo and Grover in the latter two cases, respectively. She cited many good qualities in all of them and even included some black characters from other shows we had never mentioned before. This was encouraging.
This all transpired within a span of four minutes or less. All the while, eggies, toast and sweet, fresh fruit was being consumed along with a wash of cold, white milk. 'White' milk........as opposed to what, brown or chocolate milk? Could something as nondescript as the type of milk she was drinking contribute to such isolated beliefs? I knew better. Someone outside of this house had been talking to her, not with her. The stark realization that someone had been coaching my little granddaughter about any imagined differences between white skin and black skin and the superiority of one color over the other cut me to the bone. Somebody was attempting to get inside her head early enough to create a negative influence upon her via the impeccable innocence of her youth!
I could not and did not allow Brenna to see my anger. That would only serve as yet another negative in her life. Instead, I smiled on the outside and spoke highly of all God's creatures but cried within because even the above mentioned "someone" fell into this category, too. Sadder still, I could only imagine the culprit being a sweet, young innocent him or herself.
We spend valuable time encouraging our children to do the right thing because we love them beyond anything else and want them to grow-up strong and with a positive attitude. Part of this process includes giving them enough slack or room to grow in order for them to move about with ease and learn to make decisions of their own, good and bad, along the way. Sadly, there will always be situations where children and young adults lack a positive roll model in their lives allowing weakness and negativity to corrupt them....disallowing the chances for their true potential to blossom and grow.
Brenna's parents are excellent role models who have allowed her to grow like a young sapling in a forest of ancient cedars. Their love for her is strong and binding with the desire for their 'sapling' to be able to sample life in every way while she grows straight and tall towards the sun. As long as Brenna has such positive influences in her life she will have the freedom to choose right from wrong and be able to navigate all of the gray areas in between. Every child learns by example and, with any luck, can gradually ease into the art of important decision making. Soon enough they learn the power of each decision they make, as well as the consequences rendered by those decisions and via this process they become stronger human beings.
I wholeheartedly believe that this "someone" is actually helping Brenna grow stronger and taller by pointing out the wickedness that is harbored deep within our society today......bigotry in its most loathsome form. My grandchild is a 'blank canvas' right now and this represents the opportunity she has to hear both sides, think about each one as time goes on, and decide for herself what is right or wrong. If the positive influences outweigh the negative....she has a fighting chance.
This is only the beginning. She will make it through this trial and continue to grow stronger in order to meet the next one head-on. I must have faith and believe, not only in Brenna, but in good overpowering evil. This beautiful child of mine needs, no, deserves the right to know the difference between them and be capable of embracing what are the right decisions for her. Ah, the not so simple, but should be, life of a three-year old today!
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| ***LOVE*** |
Copyright © 2015 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
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