Walter Backstrom seems a little surprised that we are still obsessed with race.
I was talking to a kindergarten teacher recently. She showed me a book that they use. In that book, they talk about slavery. I’m not kidding.
When I saw the passage related to race, my blood pressure spiked, and I decided to throw away my double-short latte. That is all we need: A book that makes white people feel guilty and black people feel like victims — in kindergarten.
I was under the impression that they were supposed to learn their ABCs and colors. Clearly, I was wrong.
This is what happens when the politically correct crowd, white guilt and black victimhood meet. I must tell you, this is nothing but foolishness run amok. We continue to be obsessed with race.
I would go one step beyond Backstrom's point. I think we are more obsessed with race now, at a time when all minorities have more chances than ever, than we have been in a generation.
I was a child of the 1970s. I was among the students to attend desegregated schools in Fort Worth, and I was in the first class of white students bused to a black school. What I remember about the experience was that we had never seen--up close--people who looked like them, nor they like us. It didn't make good film for TV to have a bunch of seven-year-olds feeling each other's hair, poking each other's arms and staring at each other's faces, asking inelegant questions like why one girl wears three ponytails and another has only two. The adults were horrified, but the kids were just being kids.
Unfortunately, political correctness has seeped into the minds of elementary school students, even down to the kindergarten level. I know this because I've heard them talk.
My children had some friends (a brother and sister) over for a sleepover. The children started discussing ways they were all similar and ways they were different.
"Another way we're the same is we're all white," said one girl.
"That's racist," said my son.
I was very surprised at his statement. "Why do you think saying you're all white is racist?" I asked.
"Because," he answered. "Talking about your color is racist."
"A statement of fact, like that all of you are white, isn't racist," I responded. "It would be racist if you'd said that you were all great because you're white, or that you're better than someone else because you're white. Simply stating that you're white is just a fact."
I could tell he didn't believe me, and that's how I knew the racism police had done their work. My son is ashamed of his race, which is no better than a black child or Asian kid or Hispanic person being ashamed of his or her race. I agree with Backstrom:
I get tired of dealing with the race issue. I am keenly aware that racism still exists — with its ugly actors and actions. However, the hope that I have for future generations is that they won’t be burdened with color as we are. I see so many biracial kids and children from other countries that the issue of slavery and race won’t be below their surface as they grow up.
I want my children to grow up in a world where they don't feel victimized or guilty about past racism, for they didn't cause it and aren't responsible for it. I want them to grow up understanding that their worth isn't, nor should it be, tied to the color of their skin.
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