What color is the blood of a white person?”
My second grade teacher’s face was flushed. As she perched on the edge of her desk, our entire class yelled in unison:
“Red!”
Only moments ago she’d called a halt to recess and marched us into our classroom. It was 1964 in Southern California, and a playground scuttle had ended with the N-word.
“What color is the blood of a black person?”
Our class grew quiet.
In my bid to be teacher’s pet, I wanted to raise my hand with an answer.
But this one had me stumped.
I had no idea what color a black person bled, so I remained quiet.
“Red?”
The class responded with more of a question than an answer.
Beyond skin color
That was my first introduction to the idea that we have to use our brains to look past barriers like skin color.
Our teacher went on to explain that, no matter how different we may look on the outside, on the inside we’re all the same.
Since then, I’ve tried to heed my teacher’s advice. But no matter how hard I battle my prejudices and attempt to seek the heart of the person who doesn’t look like me, I fail constantly.
That’s why I appreciate the lessons I’m learning in the face of recent events. As I scroll through social media posts, read articles, and watch videos, I’m understanding frustrations, fears, and humiliations in the black community that I hadn’t recognized.
When it comes to racial inequality, I don’t know all the answers. In fact, I’m not even sure I understand the questions.
So, I’m listening. I’m trying to understand. And I’m thinking hard about how to make sure I’m not part of the problem.
In the end, I’m guided by the stunning truth my second grade teacher struggled to teach her class of seven-year-olds:
“God created man in His own image” (Genesis 1:27, HCSB), and that makes us all equally precious, valued, and esteemed.
The color of our skin truly doesn’t define us. Our divine makeup does.
That’s a lesson I learned 55 years ago. And it’s worth repeating every single day of my life so I never forget it.
