You Have To Be Taught

If I’ve learned anything about little children in my life, it’s that they are a blank slate, a sponge ready to soak up any and all information presented to them.  As a kindergartener, I was no different.  I made friends quickly and easily, as most young children do, and when I did make a new friend, I was always excited to share the news. 

One day after school, I shared with my mother, the fact that I had made a new friend in school.  She was very happy and excited for me and asked me many questions about my new friend.  I began by telling her that she was a girl, and what her likes and dislikes were.  Then the conversation turned to what she looked like and whether I thought she was pretty.  I said that I thought so and began describing her.  

I described the details of her hair style, which was dark, short, and curly; I described what she was wearing that day, and then I told my mother that she had “dark skin, like a real dark tan.”  Naturally, my mother realized that my new friend was African-American.  She said, “Oh, you mean she’s black?”  I said, “No, just real, real dark.”  

When my mom and I discussed this story many years later, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that children are born with no knowledge of racial differences.  Society could debate until the cows came home, but I knew the truth, because it had happened to me.  I didn’t care what color my friend was, all I knew was that she was my friend and I liked her. 

To this day, almost 40 years later, I still keep that memory tucked safely away so that I will always remember that, as Oscar Hammerstein so eloquently wrote in the musical, South Pacific, “You Have to be Carefully Taught.”