I’m not white. But I clearly remember wishing I was most of my childhood.
My best friend in elementary school was Simone. She was black. Beautiful. I remember holding her hand at recess time and when she let go because we had to get back in line to go to class, I looked down to see if her dark chocolate covered skin had rubbed off onto my paler skin.
It hadn’t.
I was a bit disappointed because her skin was so beautiful.
And that’s the thing. Different is BEAUTIFUL…
… but different freaks the crap out of us because we don’t know how to control it.
I didn’t live through this time. The time when the KKK raged and minorities (mostly blacks) hid. But I clearly remember 9/11 ten years ago… and I’m quite certain I will never forget that.
Different.
Different cultures.
Different thoughts.
Different ideas.
Just different.
We talk about “different” being good… but what if “different” hurts you or someone you love? Would you forgive them? Would you not only forgive them, but actually love them?
Skin color may not rub off… but I will forever remember the imprint Simone left on my heart.
And I’m better off because of her.
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