“Oh, this is definitely racism!” yells Kai from downstairs. Upstairs, his father and I exchange raised eyebrows. Kai has turned on the TV to watch Netflix, but it goes to CNN first, and Kai is watching a black family talk about their relative[1] who has just been shot in the back twice by a police officer as he ran away. They are shaking and tears are streaming down their faces, and Kai asks, “What happened?!” In the midst of the George Floyd murder and subsequent protests, it hasn’t been long since we had our latest discussion on racism. At a recent breakfast, it came up, and I tackled it, explained the history of slavery, the misery that it caused for African Americans, the lifestyle that it offered white Americans. I sketched out the Civil War, and I answered all his questions. He seemed to understand all of it. Good work, me! Job well done!
Have I mentioned that my son is asking a lot of questions these days? That conversation was not done. Every once in a while, Kai stares at me, thinking hard, and then he asks me another question about race and racism. I’ve been writing them down. Here are a few:
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