Diversidad

While reading some of my favorite Mommy Blogs, I notice that a lot of families out there are bumping up against racial intolerance, ignorance, and idiocy, especially when it comes to their Hapa children. I have experienced this also, but only when we travel outside our blissful liberal bubble. In our day-to-day lives, we remain largely untouched by this pervasive problem. In fact, one of the great pleasures of living in the city by the Bay is that we don't have to deal with this AT ALL. My hetero-normative nuclear family is downright Republican by SF standards, and we raise nary an eyebrow. If people notice anything it's that I am taller than my husband. If you really want to shake people up, trying messing with the "rules" that the man has to be taller and older. (One year, I wanted to go to a Halloween party dressed as Angelina Jolie and Maddox, but the Handyman wasn't into it. Killjoy.)


To back up my stance, I did an informal poll this morning at preschool. In Booper's class, of 22 kids--many of whom are there only parttime--there are 8 biracial (mostly Hapa) kids and 4 kids of color. There may be more mixed-race kids that are not immediately obvious to me. In the Caboose's class of 12, he has 4 Hapa kids, a special needs boy, and 3 children of color. Caboose's teachers are Persian, Ukrainian, Korean, and Mexican, some immigrants, some children of immigrants, some adopted from their homeland. Booper's teachers are Brazilian and White. BTW, this is the only white teacher at the school. The school boasts a map of the world on one wall, with photos affixed to the home countries of all the teachers and staff, including the above plus Peru and Guatemala.

I love this about San Francisco. What I also love about the City by the Bay is the other types of diversity. One example involves this guy:




This is Woody. He works the counter at Orphan Andy's in the Castro. He makes the city's best chocolate milkshake. And one of the boys' favorite things to do is ride the vintage F Line (see above, an example of a vintage train from Milan, Italy) to his little cafe and order one of these delicious cups of creamy goodness. Woody is what you might call "a colorful character." He always wears a kilt. He frequently wears a studded black leather belt that says "Nudist." (It tickles me no end that he wears an article of clothing that reads "nudist." That's like carrying a gun that reads "pacifist.") And he usually has a T-shirt on that makes me glad my kids can't read. This past Saturday, his shirt read, "Girlie Man." He also is incredibly friendly and loves kids. He takes the time to answer all of Booper's questions about "Why do you have an earring in your nose?" "Did it hurt when they put it in?" "Why are you wearing a skirt?" and "How do you make this milkshake taste so good?" We look forward to visiting Woody and he is part of the fabric of life here.


But this last can prove thorny when dealing with preschoolers, who like things to be concrete. There is a boy in Booper's class who has two Mommies. Because all the kids quickly become attuned to who is whose Mommy/Daddy, this family set-up did not go unnoticed. In connection with that, there has been a lot of talk at school lately about marriage. One of the girls in Booper's class says she is going to "marry him." She says Booper is her "prince." (So I think we know where she is getting this from, thank you Walt Disney.) Booper asks a lot of questions--about everything--and has asked me many times if he can marry me. I tell him, "You can't marry me because I am your Mommy. Plus, I'm already married to Daddy." He will answer, "Will you and Daddy help me find a [FingKASIL] to marry?" "Don't worry, you will find someone wonderful to marry when you are grown up, and if you would like our help we will be happy to help you." He asks if, when he is married, he can still live with us. He also asks if he can marry The Caboose, figuring this would keep things simple since then they could just keep living in our house and we would all stay together. But I told him that brothers can't get married, either.


So putting all this together, the other night Booper asked, "Mommy, can two boys get married?"


Deep breath, and here we go. "Yes, but it depends where they live. In some places, it's okay for two boys to get married, and in some places it isn't."


"Can two boys get married in Africa?"


"No, they can't."

Why?"

"I don't know. But in Africa, it's against the rules. In some places, like Hawaii, two men can get married if they want to."

"I love Hawaii."

"Me, too."

So while we may have had that go-round wrapped up in a tight little bow, I know there is more to come. I feel like I want to be honest with the boys about the world. I want them to be open to people and not judge the way others live their lives, especially not based on the way they look. This is a complicated world, and I want to help them navigate the complexities and appreciate the textures. But when is the right time to start, without confusing them?