I walked into my back yard about three months after having moved into my new house. My daughter was there. She rushed to me with a look of gossip on her face. Sure enough, she had something to say.
"I heard the neighbour kids talking about you, Mom!"
Slightly curious, I wondered what it was they said about me. "Oh did they now."
"Yeah!" My daughter replied. "They saw you walking up and they said oh look it's the blacky!"
"They called me a blacky?" I felt incredulous inwardly, but a smirk crept into the corner of my mouth.
"Yep!" Daughter continued to question. "Does that mean what I think it means, Mom?"
"If you think it means their parents are racist, then you're correct."
"And their parents before them."
I nodded my head in agreement at my twelve year old daughter's cleverness. She knows what's up in the ways of the world. And sadly so.
"I heard the neighbour kids talking about you, Mom!"
Slightly curious, I wondered what it was they said about me. "Oh did they now."
"Yeah!" My daughter replied. "They saw you walking up and they said oh look it's the blacky!"
"They called me a blacky?" I felt incredulous inwardly, but a smirk crept into the corner of my mouth.
"Yep!" Daughter continued to question. "Does that mean what I think it means, Mom?"
"If you think it means their parents are racist, then you're correct."
"And their parents before them."
I nodded my head in agreement at my twelve year old daughter's cleverness. She knows what's up in the ways of the world. And sadly so.
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