|Different shades of brown.|
Annika noticed that her brown markers were two different colors, yet, they were the same.
She had picked up two different brown markers, (btw, her favorite colors to color with seem to be brown and black, am I reading too much into that? Probably.) and as she did, she said to me, “Hey Mama, these markers are both brown!”
If you speak 2-year-old, which I do, and could hear the inflection in her voice, you’d know that the meaning behind this was, “Hey, these are the same, but there is something different about them.”
If we were not a Biracial family, I’d probably not get such a kick out of this revelation. But since we are, I immediately likened it to the idea that someday she will begin to understand that all shades of people are really the same underneath their skin colors.
That’s pretty much it. I am not feeling like I need to wax particularly deep on this subject. Because it’s simple. It really is. We are all different. And yet, we’re the same.
I’m not writing this because I think any of you don’t get this. I just thought it was cool to see the beginning of the revelation of color in a child’s mind.
I wonder if there was a specific point in time when the world began to change and see different skin colors as being a bad thing. I’m sure at some point, seeing the difference was just that. Hey, that’s different than me. But when did it begin to boil over into hate and violence? There must have been some slight turning point. Just a thought.