It's All About What We Feed Our Children

It just occurred to me yesterday that this presidential election is the one my kids will remember. They'll be seven and eight when our next president is elected, and they're already very cognizant of the campaigns. They understand that we've never had a female president or a black president, and for that reason alone, they're fascinated by the possibilities. Zoe says she's vote for Obama. I don't know if that's because she knows I'd prefer Obama, or because she likes the timber of his voice. I do know that she can recognize his voice in under three syllables. I turned on the radio in the car yesterday and I changed the station as soon as I realized it was a news report so I wouldn't have to listen to the girls complaining. But as soon as I pushed the button, Zoe said "Go back, Mama. That was Obama!" I was surprised, especially since, in the less than two seconds the radio had been on that station, I hadn't processed who was speaking.

Mia, on the other hand, supports Clinton. She thinks we need a girl president. She's all about the girl-power, I guess. And being somewhat less emotionally needy than her big sister, I suppose she's able to look past Hillary's slightly prickly demeanor.

Also telling, neither one is talking about McCain. Perhaps because he's already been annointed as the Republican canditate and his name just doesn't come up as much. Or perhaps it's because they don't hear US talking abut him--although I'm fairly certain we do, just not nearly as much as the others.

That being said, I'd like to quote yesterday's post from an online acquaintance (a totally one-sided acquaintance--he's my owl-cam guru, and he also maintains a blog) describing his observations of another local child about Mia's age. I do not believe his post requires any additional commentary.

That's Not Politics, Lady

I walked into my neighborhood pharmacy this afternoon to collect a prescription. Standing ahead of me, picking up a prescription of her own, was a woman and her young son. The woman had red hair in quantity and she was dressed in a manner that made me think of her as middle- or upper-middle class, which wouldn't be uncommon in the area. Her son was, perhaps, five years old. The pharmacist behind the counter was asking her for a signature. The woman paused just long enough that the pharmacist began to explain, but the woman cut her off, saying "I understand; it's so I won't use it like crack cocaine." The woman laughed loudly at her own humor.

I stood there reflecting to myself that the woman had no idea what she was talking about, and that the sudden, specific reference to crack cocaine was odd, in any case. Apparently, however, the reference was familiar to her son, who promptly began speaking animatedly: "Yes, Mommy wants McCain. Mommy doesn't want that other one. That sea-monkey. Do you, Mommy?"

The woman, now angry, told her son: "Not now! I am not going to discuss politics in a pharmacy."

I can only assume from the context that "sea-monkey" was a reference to Senator Obama specifically, and to black people in general. I stood there lost for words, but convinced that when such a viewpoint was expressed in front of me, I had some obligation to stand up and say that it was wrong, lest my silence be taken for some level of sympathy with the viewpoint, thereby bolstering it. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a single useful thing to say. The best I managed was a glare at her when she turned to leave.

As is usually the case, the right words came to me shortly after they were of no use to me – while I was walking through the parking lot. Since they weren't said when they were needed, I'll at least say them here: "That's not politics, lady, that's racism."

That woman makes me fear for my state and nation of today. Her son makes me fear for their future. Though started-off in the moral and intellectual dead-end of racism, in the long run the boy has the potential, and the responsibility (shared by us all), to think his way through the errors of our personal and collective past. Good luck, kid. The great state of Texas and our United States are depending on people like you to further their redemption.