12 August 2006
sticks and stones
This morning, Three called Five a "big-eye fatboy Chinese."
One implacable reality of a transracial family is thus illustrated: racism is everywhere, even here. It's simply not the case that the most vulnerable kids are the most aware or sensitive. In fact, it might be that the opposite is true: the more racial bullying a child has had to endure, the more racial bullying that child is likely to perpetrate.
When Two was first in kindergarten (she went to 2 years' worth--one of my better decisions) she was enrolled in the "magnet" ESL school. I didn't know then what I know now (who does?)--that ESL as it was practiced in my school district was not what Two needed. Two was in a situation the linguists call "subtractive bilingualism," meaning she was losing her first language before ever having thoroughly enough learned it to make learning her second language at all easy or straightforward.
At the time, I just figured that "ESL" had to be a good thing and the school was very racially and ethnically diverse, which I figured to be an even better thing.
The kids at this school treated my child to her first racial slur. And they continued to provide this "service" quite diligently for the entire time it took me to become aware of the problem, to try to deal with it through channels (translation: meetings, meetings, and more meetings), and to find a kindergarten to transfer her to.
It makes sense that those who've been bullied, discriminated against, and worse lash out against others. We know that kids who've been abused at home tend to grow up to become abusers themselves absent effective intervention. So where is the surprise in a playground full of "diverse" kids calling their peers things I don't want to type into this blog entry?
Still, despite the years of practical education intervening between then and now, I was shocked that Three had let fly, and at Five, and in those particular words. Three has made something of a pet of Five. He loves it when she gives him "hairdos," and he enjoys the make-believe games she likes to play; she likes to play mom with him--bossing and fussing and indulging.
I had her sit at the study table and write the hurtful words she'd used and why it was wrong to use them. I also asked her to write down hurtful words that have been said to her, and to write down how those words had made her feel.
So she did, after slamming paper and pencil and sundry objects around for a while. Her first effort consisted of a series of sentences which all basically just said, "It wasn't nice to say those things" and "It made him/me feel bad."
I insisted on more detail. She came up with "those things are mean words" and "it made me want to hite [sic] him and yell"--which are far more useful analyses, in my opinion.
We all know that words hurt (and so do the sticks Four and Five are using for laser death swords--gotta go deal with that). But it's easy to forget or overlook that the hurt doesn't end with the incident (or the penance following it). The nasty names Three's been called have left behind a reservoir of anger. That reservoir helped to fuel her attack on Five.
Proverbial wisdom just doesn't apply; nothing I can do will make that reservoir disappear. I'm not even sure that I want it to. Her anger will sometimes be useful to her, living her life in a racist society, finding her way in even supposedly enlightened communities. My hope is that I can help her learn not to aim that anger at herself or at others who are targets of racism.
"Mean words" and "wanting to hite" is a self-perpetuating cycle, and one that the nursery rhyme ("Sticks and stones may break my bones / But words will never hurt me") does not help us with, not one little bit. But we'll keep trying. And in the meantime, life goes on. Right now, Three and Five are happily and absorbedly playing Barbies, while Two pokes around on the Neopets site yelling that it is wrong about her password, and Four and Five are bouncing off walls, furniture, and each other playing "ghost pirate ninjas."
I'd better go confiscate those laser death swords.
And then I think I'll make some popcorn. It'll never cure the disease of racism, but popcorn is right up there with chocolate in curative powers for most of everything else that might ail you.
One implacable reality of a transracial family is thus illustrated: racism is everywhere, even here. It's simply not the case that the most vulnerable kids are the most aware or sensitive. In fact, it might be that the opposite is true: the more racial bullying a child has had to endure, the more racial bullying that child is likely to perpetrate.
When Two was first in kindergarten (she went to 2 years' worth--one of my better decisions) she was enrolled in the "magnet" ESL school. I didn't know then what I know now (who does?)--that ESL as it was practiced in my school district was not what Two needed. Two was in a situation the linguists call "subtractive bilingualism," meaning she was losing her first language before ever having thoroughly enough learned it to make learning her second language at all easy or straightforward.
At the time, I just figured that "ESL" had to be a good thing and the school was very racially and ethnically diverse, which I figured to be an even better thing.
The kids at this school treated my child to her first racial slur. And they continued to provide this "service" quite diligently for the entire time it took me to become aware of the problem, to try to deal with it through channels (translation: meetings, meetings, and more meetings), and to find a kindergarten to transfer her to.
It makes sense that those who've been bullied, discriminated against, and worse lash out against others. We know that kids who've been abused at home tend to grow up to become abusers themselves absent effective intervention. So where is the surprise in a playground full of "diverse" kids calling their peers things I don't want to type into this blog entry?
Still, despite the years of practical education intervening between then and now, I was shocked that Three had let fly, and at Five, and in those particular words. Three has made something of a pet of Five. He loves it when she gives him "hairdos," and he enjoys the make-believe games she likes to play; she likes to play mom with him--bossing and fussing and indulging.
I had her sit at the study table and write the hurtful words she'd used and why it was wrong to use them. I also asked her to write down hurtful words that have been said to her, and to write down how those words had made her feel.
So she did, after slamming paper and pencil and sundry objects around for a while. Her first effort consisted of a series of sentences which all basically just said, "It wasn't nice to say those things" and "It made him/me feel bad."
I insisted on more detail. She came up with "those things are mean words" and "it made me want to hite [sic] him and yell"--which are far more useful analyses, in my opinion.
We all know that words hurt (and so do the sticks Four and Five are using for laser death swords--gotta go deal with that). But it's easy to forget or overlook that the hurt doesn't end with the incident (or the penance following it). The nasty names Three's been called have left behind a reservoir of anger. That reservoir helped to fuel her attack on Five.
Proverbial wisdom just doesn't apply; nothing I can do will make that reservoir disappear. I'm not even sure that I want it to. Her anger will sometimes be useful to her, living her life in a racist society, finding her way in even supposedly enlightened communities. My hope is that I can help her learn not to aim that anger at herself or at others who are targets of racism.
"Mean words" and "wanting to hite" is a self-perpetuating cycle, and one that the nursery rhyme ("Sticks and stones may break my bones / But words will never hurt me") does not help us with, not one little bit. But we'll keep trying. And in the meantime, life goes on. Right now, Three and Five are happily and absorbedly playing Barbies, while Two pokes around on the Neopets site yelling that it is wrong about her password, and Four and Five are bouncing off walls, furniture, and each other playing "ghost pirate ninjas."
I'd better go confiscate those laser death swords.
And then I think I'll make some popcorn. It'll never cure the disease of racism, but popcorn is right up there with chocolate in curative powers for most of everything else that might ail you.
