“I don’t like it when they call me Toubab (white person) mom…
How would they like it if they were walking around in America and I called them “black person” wherever they went?”
Her comment wasn’t really a surprise. I’ve seen how much she dislikes having people watch her when we’re out and about. I’ve seen the way she moves a little behind me to avoid the “toubab” comments, and they are many (although not usually mean spirited I think). Few people enjoy being pointed out for their differences wherever they go.
Regardless, this is something they are going to have to adjust to. I remember hearing stuff like it when I was little, in New Guinea as well. There is no way around it when you are noticeably different than most of the population.
On the one hand… my heart hurts for my shy one. On the other hand… I’m kind of glad.
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” I rub her arm and move a little to intercept the stares. “But remember how you feel right now, and never make anyone else feel that way. You don’t like when you feel like people judge you based on the color of your skin. Make sure you don’t judge others on it.”
“Why do they call me a white person mommy? The walls are white. My skin is not the color of the walls.”
Oh that more people could see life with your eyes my precious girl. People should not be generalized and categorized. Every one of us is different, and unique, and has value to our Creator.
As hard as it can be, I’m kind of glad my kids get to experience a teensy bit of what it’s like to be the minority. I hope they carry it with them through life, and use it to love others better.