The Age Limit of Oppression

He is in third grade. He tells me that his crush’s mother doesn’t like him, and he doesn’t know why. Tears roll down his face as he explains that he always goes out of his way to be nice to her, but she always goes out of her way to be rude to him.

What am I supposed to say to this child, who is only trying his best? What do I do when I have the nagging suspicion that the reason this wealthy white woman is rude to him is because he is black?

What am I supposed to say to a young boy who doesn’t yet know the stories of Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, and every innocent black boy who will face more than rudeness in the future?

He is in third grade. He tells me that he’s scared, that Donald Trump is president and he doesn’t know why. The pages of a kids’ version of a news magazine crinkle as he explains that his parents told him that Trump doesn’t like Mexicans, but that he’s Mexican, and he doesn’t know why someone who doesn’t like him is now the most powerful person in the world. What am I supposed to say to this child, who has every right to be afraid? What do I do when I am equally, if not more, terrified for him–– and for everyone who looks like him––to already feel the normalization of hate? What am I supposed to say to this young boy, who should be more worried about completing the homework in front of him than the safety and legal status of his friends and family––of the people who give everything to our country, only to be rewarded with deportation?

She is in third grade. She tells me that there is a boy in her class who constantly bullies her––her parents told her it just means he likes her––and she doesn’t know why. She pulls her dark hair up into a ponytail, her young features flawless without makeup, as she explains that he makes her uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say to this girl —this intelligent, brave, and beautiful girl—when I know that these things will only get worse as she gets older? What do I do when I realize that she will have to face being nonwhite and a woman in a world that has not come to terms with the intersections of her identity? What am I supposed to say when I wish with every fiber of my being that she retains that innocence, that they can all retain their innocence, when every barrier they have to face is forcing it out of them?

by Natalie Chaudhuri