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Staying on track. |
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| April 23, 2007
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Then I went last night, right on time, to pick up my daughter. I drove up the winding road to #5, the biggest house on the block (which isn’t always a great idea from a real estate standpoint). Inside I was greeted by a soaring foyer and I could see extensive artwork on the walls far in front of me. My daughter and her friend and another girl bounded up to me with hugs and giggles. I met the impeccably dressed mother, sweet older sister and rambunctious little brother in his underwear. And when my daughter looked at me with feigned adoration and asked if she could stay the night, I said OK. I left feeling happy that she’d made another new friend among the rigors of junior high adjustments. I felt safe that she would be happy, and happy that she would be safe. This afternoon, after my daughter had been home from her sleepover about five hours, another friend called to invite her over. This friend had spent the night here before, so I knew her, and I also knew the invitation to visit would be coming in reciprocity. So we got the address. Equal distance as the other friend, in the other direction. We drove a mere six or seven minutes and turned down a street that looked beaten up on one side and industrial on the other. I wondered what my daughter would find when she ventured beyond the doorway. Certainly not two living rooms and a butler like the night before, but hopefully a kind and loving family home where she will have a lot of fun with her friend -- a girl who in my home was polite and funny, sweet and kind. I can only assume that is a reflection of her upbringing. Yet, I wished I had been able to get a sense of things -- without overstepping my bounds. She is too old for me to accompany her on play dates, and I relished the day she was old enough to go alone. But today I wished I could stay. The tracks in our school district zig-zag through and around social stature and socio-economics, but in each little section of the community there are black and white families. Now, here's the question -- did you automatically assume and picture a white family in that big fancy house? What about the other house? Knowing that races coexist peacefully here, would you assume that the second family was black? If you did, you were wrong. I realized that my prejudice is colorblind, but not blind to the trappings of privilege. Was I comfortable yesterday because of the surroundings alone, or because I was made to feel comfortable? Is that bit of social polish part of being on a certain rung on the ladder? I did have a bit of a tug leaving my daughter — but did so because it’s time to do that. Just like today. But today I was left, and am still, curious what is going on, and if she is OK. How well will she fare in an environment that might be very different from her own, and why didn’t I think of that last night? We don’t have a driver or a butler or two living rooms just like we don't have a truck in the driveway or a vacant lot next door. And I’m sure that none of this entered her mind at all. These girls are just that, girls. They are her friends, black or white, tall or short, Jewish or Christian. They’re making up dances and trying on make-up. They are giggling and laughing and talking a little about boys. They are all just being themselves. My daughter shows me through her smiles and varied friendships that they are all much more alike than different. What I realized today is that these girls and their families are confined by the walls in which they live, only when my preconceptions shut the door and lock them in. |
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