"Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps! End of list."

- Denis Leary

"We are the rainbow people of God! We are unstoppable! Nobody can stop us on our march to victory! No one, no guns, nothing! Nothing will stop us, for we are moving to freedom! We are moving to freedom and nobody can stop us! For God is on our side!"

- The Most Rev. Desmond Tutu

Every year, I sit down with Bear and listen to the "I Have a Dream" speech by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. This afternoon, as we watched it together, I couldn't help but start crying. Especially at the part when he said "...I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

"Isn't it exciting that Mr. Obama is being sworn is as President tomorrow?" I asked my son, sniffling, after the speech was over.

He didn't answer for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Mr. Obama has a good idea how to fix things. And that's why he was elected, right?"

"Right," I answered, even though my 8 year old was being rhetorical.

"I think Dr. King wanted for people to elect the good people for the jobs, no matter what they looked like. Sometimes, people ask me where I come from because I have orange hair and you and daddy don't. But I don't want you to have orange hair. I like your hair the way it is," my son informed me. "I don't want Mr. Obama to have orange hair, either. I want him to do good things for America. I think that was what Dr. King was saying."

"Oh," and maybe I was crying again.

"It's OK, Mommy," Bear patted my shoulder, after a while. "I get it."

"Yeah, Bear," I agreed. "I think you do."

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:42 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Just before he turned 8, Bear started contact sparring in tournaments.

Martial Arts is all new to me - it's only through Bear's interest that I'm learning about it. And I just don't think I can explain what it was like that first time to watch some big massive Frankenchild come at my son with the intent to punch the living crap out of him.

CD grabbed my hand, I'm pretty sure to hold me back from ripping off the other kid's head and drop kicking it.

Has it gotten any better since? Oh, hell, No. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:05 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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