"Not brown, Momma."

I debated publishing this post as I hate to be seen as prejudice against any race. I grew up experiencing prejudice of many natures: That of being illegitimate in a time when it wasn't acceptable, of being from a family with a bad reputation, of having a mixed race family before that became the norm, of being poor.

While life was tough as a child, as an adult I can thank all the experiences and prejudice I faced for my complete and open nature to almost anything. I care not one whit about your race, religion, native language, sexual preference (unless it involves minors), or political calling.

However, this last year with Will in a prominently Hispanic school has tested my beliefs. Will was the only non-Hispanic child in his class. One of only ten non-Hispanic children in their entire pre-k program of over 160 children.

Most of the family notes were sent home in Spanish. Most of the time they would include a version in English, but you could tell it wasn't translated by a native English speaker. Sometimes an English version wasn't even offered. There were programs and classes offered that were only in Spanish. Now, each time it happened, a note was attached saying that if enough parents requested the class in English they would offer it. As there were only ten of us, it never happened.

Every time Steve and I attended a school party or function, no one spoke to us. Most of the parents would sit aside from us and speak in Spanish. Often, the teacher would join them. It is impossible to list the many ways in which we were slighted and left out through out the school year, but it was significant.

The only draw back I've noticed on Will's part is that a few months ago he started speaking Spanish. Only, not really. He just breaks out in weird noises like, "Sato mayi keppa toldo sepa." Then he translates it for me. He must just hear it a lot.

This afternoon I was tanning in the back yard while Will rested in his room. He came out and found me and asked what I was doing. "I'm trying to get a tan," I respond. To his 'why' I replied, "So I can be brown instead of white."

"No, Momma!" he cried, becoming very upset. "Please stay white. Don't turn brown, Momma."

It took me nearly half an hour to calm him down. Through out the entire afternoon and evening he'd randomly repeat his request that I stay white and not become brown.

Breaks my heart.