The Man and I have a years-long tradition of reading to each other in bed to help us sleep. Although the arrival of the Boychick changed the purpose of this nightly ritual from decompression- and snuggle-time to help-Arwyn-survive-breastfeeding-baby-to-sleep time, it didn’t really change the books we chose. We’ve always read books with “adult content”, and we don’t see why we should limit our selections to exclusively “children’s books” just because we have a child now. Still, as he’s grown, we’ve gotten just a little pickier about the content, trying to balance the desire to expose him to enjoyable, mind-expanding literature with not wanting to expose him to too much in the way of inappropriate language or ideas. It’s sometimes hard finding books we enjoy, that work well read aloud, and that have a low enough objectionable-to-laudable scene ratio in them; but mostly, we pick books that will interest and engage us: he’s just along for the ride.
The other night, having decided that The Canterbury Tales was too difficult to follow while half asleep and too misogynistic for any time of day, I brought to bed Sula by Toni Morrison. I had picked up the novel on sale years ago, knowing that I admired Morrison’s work but not having read this one before. It languished in our library, unopened and unread, as Half Price Books and under-treated bipolar disorder left me at the time with more books acquired than actually appreciated. But this night I was looking for something new, something thinner in size if not in scope than our recent hefty choices, and I spotted it, and thought, why not?
The possible answer to “why not?” came in the form of “the n word” appearing half a dozen times in the first five pages. After the third or fourth iteration, The Man abruptly stopped reading, and asked — more like demanded, desperate for an answer — “should I be reading that word aloud?” I said the only thing I could: “I don’t know.”
I don’t know. I know I want to teach the Boychick about the evils some people (people who look a lot like him) have done and still do against other people (people who look slightly less like him but are still fundamentally the same as him). I know I want to be able to have calm and rational conversations with him about the N word and why it is a word he is not ever allowed to use, even if he one day has friends who use it for themselves. I know I want to expose him to the profound and beautiful literature this hateful language — and the even more hateful actions it represents — have inspired in those who have endured and survived it, expose him to stories of lives he will never have to live, stories I hope he will help to make unnecessary for the next generation to write.
But he’s two years old. He is a linguistic sponge, surprises everyone with his vocabulary and complex sentence structure and clarity of speech and thought — and he will repeat the words he hears, even if he doesn’t know what they mean, even if he can’t understand why he mustn’t use them. Even if we agree he’s old enough to be exposed to the ugliness of life (more on that in a moment), I’m not sure he’s yet cognitively able to hear and discuss and understand the explanations about the uses and implications of racial slurs, and until he is, I’m not sure we should expose him to the words and thus risk him exposing others — who would understand, who could be hurt unnecessarily but understandably — to them when he repeats them.
It is, of course, entirely due to white privilege that we have the choice whether to expose him to those slurs: he is white, we are white, most of our friends are white, and we travel primarily in a social sphere where racism is institutionalized, not explicated, subtle, not overt. A parent of color, or a parent of a child of color, all too often has the choice taken away from them, as these words are forced on them, flung at them like filth. It is entirely privilege unearned that allows me to sit comfortably in my sub/urban house, in a residential neighbourhood overwhelmingly white, in a city blindingly white, in a country still controlled by whiteness for all it is headed by a half black (but entirely Black) man, and indulge in angst over whether to allow my child to hear an ugly word that will never, ever be used against him.
But I think it is also white responsibility, stemming from that white privilege, to think about that language, to examine the role I play in perpetuating it, to act to counter it. I have a responsibility to teach my child about the word, about the larger evils it represents, yes: but I also have a responsibility to ensure my child does not hurt those around him by repeating it before he knows better, do I not?
So do we read the word aloud and hope he is able to understand our explanations? Substitute it with a euphemism more palatable but ultimately no less kyriarchal? Mumble it and hope he doesn’t ask for clarification? Put the book away until he’s “old enough”, whenever that is? If we do that last, are we whitewashing his world, perpetuating racism-through-exclusion? Or would we be ensuring that in his formative years he only is exposed to positive images of people of color, friendly interactions between people of different races? I come around to the answer I gave that night: I don’t know.
I don’t have all the answers; some days, it feels I don’t have any. I only hope that seeing me struggle to seek them will serve the Boychick well, because he’s going to be white — in a world that privileges whiteness above all others — for the rest of his life. As I hold him close to me at night, thinking of another mother clutching her child after being exposed to the word in a way she couldn’t control, would never have chosen, I whisper a prayer to whatever god/desses are listening: please, please let him do better. Let him work to oppose that privilege. Let the answers come easier to him. Let his generation grow beyond this ugliness. Let that word become meaningless, powerless, within his lifetime. Let him know how lucky he is; how no more worthy than any others, only luckier. Let him be white without perpetuating whiteness. Please.
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What do you do? Those who have had the choice taken away from you, or who chose to take the plunge and read it aloud, what did you say to your children? Were they able to understand the explanations? If you haven’t addressed this issue, why not, and how have you worked to counter the privilege inherent in that choice?
Speaking as someone who is not yet a parent but plans to be (and has also been said to hate babies – eyeroll), I think that this is a good context in which to begin your discussion of racism with your son. Perhaps you could discuss the word with him the first time, and then use another word, like n-word or bad word, in its place afterward?
I have a 4 1/2 year old, and I have had many instances where she has repeated things in public that were at least … uncomfortable. I honestly avoid that where possible. As you said he's way, way too young to understand. And even when he's sort of old enough, he still won't really be able to understand.
This is where we are now. My daughter can understand words, but not always meanings. If I'm listening to the radio and they say the word 'rape' she will ask me what that word means. But I don't believe she has the capacity to understand what it *really* means. So I will answer at a level I think she can understand and then I will make a mental note not to turn on the radio when the news might be on.
I want to teach my child the things she needs to know. But I also want to be age appropriate. With a preschooler, age appropriate often wins over teaching. It means I don't listen to or watch certain things in her presence. It means that I hear far more kids' music than I like. But it also means that I'm not frightening an overactive imagination with information it's quite frankly not ready for and can't properly assimilate.
It's a judgment call, and I'm not always completely satisfied with the choices I'm making. But for now this is the best I'm able to achieve.
My son is four and it is easier for him to understand complex social issues than when he was two. He sees everything as two extremes–good and bad–so it makes for interesting conversation.
I use "stupid" in a joking way a lot, but he knows that "stupid" is a bad/mean word and we don't use it. He polices my language. :)
There was a time that I was a co-mama and had two boys everyday in my care. (while their birth mama worked outside of the home) and the older of the two was very emotionally young and imature. So even at age 6 he was having a hard time grasping that it wasn't apropriate to point out how "fat" a woman was, or loudly discuss the man in the wheelchair. So even at that age we were no where near discussing race relations with him because that would have been beyond his scope. So we chose positive images, exposed him to as many types of people as we could and often talked about how wonderful it is that we live in such a place that everyone is different and we're ok with that.
What other words might we, as parents, censor? And why?
I read this and thought, "I'm pretty sure I would/will censor the word, and there's a dozen more I would also omit." Because (perhaps I am underestimating the cognitive skills of toddlers) most toddlers I have encountered do not have an understanding of the subtlety of language. They're little parrots, which is sort of adorable, until they're swearing at Gramma, ya know?
There are a handful of words that I hope to never hear out of my child's mouth, and as such I will wait to introduce him to those words until he can grasp the gravity of them.
At least that's what I think today.
I think the racial epithets fall into a similar category as swear words and "dirty" words. If you don't want the f-word or the n-word coming from your child's mouth, don't say them. My language really cleaned up when I had my first toddler. On the other hand, they will hear them someday, and giving a simple, age-appropriate explanation (including "that's a word that's not nice to say") is probably the best we can do.
I really appreciate your ability to explore the broader meanings of these questions. I'd love to hear from a parent of color how s/he's experienced this and what s/he's chosen to do with his/her child/ren.
–Mom
My son is a few months younger than yours, I think. He is really at the 'parrot' stage and not able to understand the complexities of language. So for now I would avoid words which I'd prefer him not to repeat. I think toddlers are able to grasp the 'power' of words before they grasp the meaning, as I gather from hearing little kids using swearwords at the park, and I'd rather not give racist words more power than they deserve. If my son was to hear such words from another source, then I would explain it as best as I could.
I would prefer that the whole concept of race (and gender, etc) was not introduced to him too soon. I don't want it to become normalised. I think that even if it's introduced in the context of explaining why it is wrong, it is still introducing the idea of difference/hierarchy based on skin colour, which at the moment he is so beautifully unaware of. I love seeing him playing with all kinds of kids, unaware of difference. Obviously it can't go on forever. Being unaware of race is probably another privilege of being white, but I think it's positive at his age. I want him to be shocked and outraged when he first hears racist words or concepts. I don't know how realistic this is, given the racist community we live in. Those are my thoughts for now.
Thanks for the perspectives. I do wonder if the responses would be any different if I had a larger parent-of-color readership, though.
Sara — I'm not actually sure a kid *shouldn't* be talking about physical attributes of those around them. Some people *are* really fat, or use wheelchairs, and I'd much rather take the opportunity to normalize that, rather than create taboos around it. The "colorblind" ideology has pretty well proven to be a failure; all it does is hide racism, and deny kids the vocabulary to discuss race (or size, or different abilities) in a rational, matter-of-fact way.
Turtle — I really like this insight: "I think toddlers are able to grasp the 'power' of words before they grasp the meaning". That helps, thank you. I think you're right, that being ignorant of race is an aspect of white privilege, but also that introducing and normalizing *racism* early is something to be avoided.
We have continued to read Sula, and I'm glad: it has some amazingly beautiful language, a compelling account of someone with mental illness (PTSD), and really interesting characters; and fortunately, no more further repetitions of the n word, which we'll probably skip from now on. Thanks for all your thoughts.
My son is eleven and we have had several conversations about race, religion, oppression and history in the last few years.
I tend to take an approach of broaching the topics as they come up naturally. And they will eventually, as your child takes an interest in the world around him. He will have questions about everything!
I kept these kinds of issues very low key and simple when he was young. For example, if he asked about someone's skin tone at two, (like your child, he was also extremely verbal) the answer would have been, "He/She has darker skin because at least one of his/her parents have darker skin. Most people look a lot like their parents." Simple, Easy for the literal mind, and it will usually satisfy a child that age.
Later, the explanation might expand to focus on how people in different parts of the world looked a little different from each other because those colors of skin, textures of hair and and body types were the best possible ones for the part of the world that their ancestors came from. Just like our skin and hair colors were best for the place our ancestors originally came from.
As his understanding of the world increased, issues about inequality and America's history of slavery have been discussed as well. I'm sure it will be an ongoing discussion for many years to come.
I personally would never have used that word in our household at the age of two, even to discuss the negatively of it. Even very intelligent children are extremely literal and many nuances of conversation that are perfectly clear to us are meaningless to them. You may instill a bias of "otherness" to people of color without even meaning to.
My son has several friends of different races and religions. He almost never refers to them by race. He definitely knows what race and religion they are. His friends have openly discussed their culture and religious beliefs.(One has parents from Columbia and one from Lebanon.) It's just not as important to him as other aspects of their personalities. (Like if they play the same Wii games, for instance. LOL)
So I have to say that, at least in my case, proceeding very gradually on the most serious issues until he had a chance to meet and relate to POC and get to know them, seems to have worked well for us.
Livinonfaith — Welcome, and thanks for that comment. A lot of what you say makes a lot of sense to me.
I'm here via womanist musings.
My son is 4, and we definitely censor that word – when he was about 2 we were watching the Boondocks cartoon and I noticed him actually paying attention to it for the first time – before that he just kind of zoned out adult TV – and we turned it off.
I just don't think I have the skills. Not because I'm white but because it's beyond me to have that discussion at a level that is appropriate for a young child but not simplistic. We're blessed he has people in his life who are – he has a great, political teacher, a woman of color who includes antiracist work in their day almost every day.
The other thing I want to say is – it has been really wonderful reading kids & young adult novels as an adult. There are a lot of great chapter books out there written since I was a kid, and the treatment of racism in some of them is maybe more understandable to a preschooler than running straight into Toni Morrison.
Hi Arwyn! your blog is fantastic, btw!
I have thought about limiting exposure of certain words around my 3 year old daughter. I have gone back and forth on the issue. and ultimately, I think it comes down to gauging her comprehensive abilities and also, making sure she won’t repeat such a word in the wrong context (any, whatsoever actually).
We too, read adult books as well as children books out loud and it does increase her rapidly expanding vocabulary. Still, there are words she repeats that she has no idea what it means.. or very little, if any.
We have not come across racial slurs and topics yet, however, she can already distinguish between hurtful words and nice words. I do want to wait to introduce words that are laden with hate..
However, if she is somehow exposed to such words prematurely, we will have a conversation about hate words and slurs. The level of detail I go into depends on how the conversation will flow, the questions she asks, and the mood I’m in (just kidding). It’s hard to think about how at some point, my child might be exposed to racism and sexism, at the very least. I hope that with honest conversations and open discussions in a timely manner, she will be equipped to deal with discrimination in a way that strengthens her character and leads to a more accepting and loving world.
I think it’s interesting that you are really thinking about this in a perspective that is different from mine. As a woman of color, and mom of a multiracial child, we face different challenges. My biggest challenge is to reinforce positive images in literature. I tend to stay away from things that will cast a doubt on what a wonderful person she and I both are. That people can be different (in appearance and mentally) and still be beautiful, intelligent, and amazing.
In focusing mostly on that aspect, I have overlooked intentionally for now, that not every one sees things that way. It’s their loss, though. And who’s to say, she might not notice this on her own?
As an aside, Toni Morrison is one of my favorite authors and I haven’t read her books in quite a while. I bet you are enjoying “Sula”. Excellent read!