skin colors.

I am a brown woman, married to a peach (sometimes red) man. Raising an olive baby girl.

I am a brown woman teaching in an inner city classroom filled with  12 brown kids, 2 olive kids & 1 peach kid.

In all of my hours in the classroom, not one of those students have ever mentioned the color of skin.

Why?

Because it doesn’t matter.

You know what does?

Stamps. Stickers. Gym Time. Having pizza for lunch. Being the first to play with playdoh.

Each day I teach four year olds how to be respectful & how to be safe. I teach them how to be responsible & how to be kind to others. I make sure they know how loved they are & how they are cared for.

Yet they live in a world where the color of your skin matters.  A world where you can be judged/beat up/shot because of your skin, something that is out of your control.

I was born brown. In a city full of brown kids. I didn’t experience what the world could be like until I moved out of that city.

I moved to where there was more peach people. I experienced the sideways glance & the mean looks. I have experienced the rude comments & judgment.
But in small, minimal ways.

I did not get pulled over or shot for it. Yet there are others who have. There are other brown skinned people losing their lives for just being.

I struggle with trying to understand why this keeps happening.
I can’t understand why we struggle with skin color. They’re just colors.
My students don’t struggle with it. My daughter doesn’t either.
Why do we?

My passion for teaching is even more of a reason I am shouting #BlackLivesMatter.
They do. I can’t be silent about it. I can’t stay silent about injustice and deaths.
It could have been one of my student’s father. Better yet, it could be one of my students in another 15 years. I am not supporting violence nor am I against police. But I am against ignorance and contentment. I am not gonna be passive & sit back while others suffer.

I urge you to do the same. Be compassionate. Spread love. Be brave. 

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