first thoughts
Angela Lehman-Rios
The thumps, giggles and screams of children at play wafted down the
stairs in Kelly’s house. A fluffy old cat wrapped its tail around its
feet beside me on the breakfast nook table. Somewhere, a Disney video
was playing, and two or three adolescent boys periodically ranged
through the kitchen looking for food.
Kelly, Leonda (“Leigh”) and I sat at the table with a tape recorder and
a plate of cookies. I mostly listened as they talked about their
encounters with racism, their understanding of what it means to move
beyond ignorance and to create real relationships with people of all
racial backgrounds.
Only portions of the hour-and-a-half conversation could be included in
this issue (see “What Color are Your Friends?” on page 22). So many
fascinating words remain on tape.
For example, Leigh spoke about how emotionally hard it is for her to
observe that her biracial children identify more with images of white
people than African-American people. She reminds them that they are, in
total, both white and black: their identity is not limited to one or the
other.
At the same time, she said, she knows that other families may encourage
their children to develop their black, or minority, identity more fully
so they’re prepared for the racism or prejudice they will encounter as
adults.
The recurring theme of the evening was the essential similarity of
all people. Differences—cultural and physical—should be recognized for
what they are: sources of enrichment and beauty, not barriers to
relationships. But as members of the one human race, we’re more alike
than different.
Children naturally recognize this if they’re not taught otherwise,
because they see an individual, not a member of a racial group. Even
adults can learn—relearn—to connect with people who initially seem
different than themselves by finding what they have in common.
The conversation that evening focused exclusively on race, but later I
found myself thinking about how people without significant, visible
disabilities often let disability function in the same way.
How many of us, at one time or another, have thought of someone as,
for example, “one of those people with cerebral palsy” instead of
wondering about his or her personality?
As Kelly and Leigh noted in regard to race, it’s not enough to feel
benevolent towards someone who’s different if you’re still lumping them
into a group. Would you say, “Kids with Down Syndrome have so much to
teach us,” if you were friends with the parent of a child with Down
Syndrome? Or would the two of you commiserate about how your kids are
both grouches when they go without a nap?
Susan Foster, a member of the Down Syndrome Association of Greater
Richmond, says that her twin daughters have to face this kind of
prejudice that lumps them into a group and excludes them from meaningful
interaction with their peers.
After many meetings with school officials, her girls are now included
in regular classrooms at Providence Elementary. Foster told me that the
children who have been in class with Sarah and Emily for several years
“don’t even see their disability.”
Foster is involved in organizing Richmond’s first Buddy Walk, an
initiative of the National Down Syndrome Society to promote acceptance
and inclusion of people with Down Syndrome. More than 275 walks will
take place across the country in October. Richmond’s will occur on
Saturday, October 13 from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. on the campus of the
University of Richmond. More details are in the Let’s Go calendar.
Reflecting on how the generation of Sarah and Emily’s classmates will be
future employers who see the strengths and talents of people with Down
Syndrome, Foster said, “It’s always the children who lead people into
change.”
Let’s be led.
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