I really don't understand racism. I mean intellectually I understand it, but I just don't get it. To me, it's like hating someone because they have a different shoe size. I was lucky enough to grow up naive and oblivious in a small Canadian city.
My first best friend was a First Nations girl. I told my mom one day I wanted to have black eyes & black hair. She laughed & said, "Not in this family." I didn't understand her comment, but it stuck with me. I don't like being confused, but something about the way she said it made me feel like I was supposed to understand it, so I didn't ask for an explanation. It was a loooong time before I realized people with Scottish heritage generally don't have black eyes.
In high school I became best buddies with a girl born and raised for a few years in China. By this time I was a little more aware, so it was pretty obvious her features were Asian, but I still didn't notice really. She was an amazing athlete and I always envied her the confidence she showed. We bonded over sports & are still friends today though we live many miles apart. I didn't know until years later her confidence was a facade. She'd come to Canada & school speaking no English. It was years before she made real friends because of the language barrier. Her confidence was an act, a good one. She told me later, she was thrilled to find a friend who never asked her about what it was like to grow up Chinese. Oblivious little old me never really thought about it.
Kids today are a LOT more aware of things than I ever was. Naive just doesn't cut it these days. They know there are differences. And they love it. They discuss it and they celebrate it. I have kids from 8 cultural backgrounds in my classroom. There is no racism. Zero. Zip. None.
And I'm not naive anymore. I watch. I listen. I know. They're not just talking the talk. They're walking the talk as well. Best friends happen across language barriers, across cultural boundaries. In my class, we do a LOT of group work, a LOT of partner work. Partners and group members are chosen randomly. Always. No one complains about working with a classmate. Ever.
So... Thanks Martin. We owe you a lot. We will remember. We will keep up the dialogue. Because there are some parts of our history that should never be repeated. And with your help, we'll make sure your dream becomes a reality.
