Man, am I lucky. Not only do I have great kids, they are superheroes. What makes my kids so special? What is their super power? Are you ready for this? They can become invisible. I'm not kidding. If you don't believe it, come stand behind them with me at a parade sometime. Watch how all the kids get candy tossed at them, and then watch how mine get skipped. Amazing. They stand there in what I believe to be full view and yet nobody handing out candy can see them. It has to be a super power. Some of the people look in their general direction, but I know they can't see them. Most just walk on by totally fooled by their invisibility.
Did I mention my kids are black? You'd think they'd stick out even more in our rural commmunity, but nope. Nobody can see them.
Now before you start rolling your eyes and think "Here we go again" let me give you a little background. I'm a white guy. Almost three years ago I married a black woman who much to my delight, brought along with her two children. They have been raised their entire lives in our small, rural, white community. I have often mused that I enjoy the kids innocence so much because they don't know they're black yet, i.e. what it means to be black in America. They have friends of all colors at their school, and are usually included in every social event just like everyone else. But slowly I have noticed a subtle, unconscious (dare I say the "R" word?) racism creeping into their lives. And I thought this stuff went out with Brown vs. the Board of Education, or the Civil Rights Act of 1964. But this stuff is so permeated into our society, that we as white Americans make decisions that we are not even aware of. (And I say "we" because having a black wife and black kids doesn't get me a free pass).
So I noticed the parade thing about three years ago while watching my first parade with my new family. I thought it odd that the candy would fly and then the person would be fumbling in the bag as they walked by mine, and then it would fly again, but hey, that's the breaks, and just wait for the next candy hurler to come along. And they would. And the same thing happened. And then another. And another. And soon the parade was over. Oh well, we'd think, better luck next year. That was just the way the chips fell this time, but what are the odds of it happening again? But it does. It happens so consistently that I, becoming jaded, find myself getting more and more disgusted and disheartened. What do I tell a kid on Memorial Day in Sheridan whose little white friend just down the way managed to get nearly a half a grocery bag of candy when he got three pieces? Three. And he gave one of those to a kid in a wheelchair. Trying to be good adult examples, we mumbled something about having better luck next time, but we know that luck hasn't got anything to do with it. Because it happens nearly every parade.
My son also played Pee-Wee baseball. Although he was consistently huddled with the others around his coach, and yelling as loudly as anyone, he would usually be one of the last to get an assignment. Ah, but there were three more players than positions. So the coach made a deal - if anyone agreed to sit out an inning, they could pick where they wanted to play the following inning. So, my son figured that this was an easy sacrifice to be able to play first base. But guess what? Assignments were being handed out, and he would bound out of the dugout first, but dog-gone it, he had that invisibility thing going and he would get an assignment last. He rarely ever got first base and if he did it was because nobody else wanted it.
My wife and I watched him come out of the dugout slower and slower as the year went on. He was resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't be seen like everyone else. And do you want to know the kicker? His coach loved him. His coach was a wonderful, caring, giving, generous individual who had a genuine fondness for our son. I know what he did was not a conscious thing. He liked our boy. But when we questioned our son about it at the end of the year, and asked why he thought he didn't get called on by the coach like the others, he answered "I just thought the coach didn't like me." Try convincing a kid in his position that the coach did like him. And like I say, the coach did like him! In fact we want our son to play for him again next year. But this white American conditioning is subtle.
We don't want our kids treated in any special way or any concessions made for them in any way at all. You see the point is, we just want them treated the same as everyone. No special favors, no free rides, just the same as everybody else.
So regarding the parades, eventually I reckon they'll end end up figuring out what's going on, and they'll get angry about it and become more aggressive in trying to get candy. And then watch. I can hear the people sputtering now. "Did you see the way those black kids acted? They don't know how to be civlized. They act like they won't get any candy unless they bully their way in." Suddenly, unfortunately, our kids won't be invisible anymore.
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