Thursday, April 12, 2007


So far, the best commentary I've read on the whole Don Imus mess was written by my neighbor:

If there was ever anyone to be described as an would be him. What was he thinking?

About 6 years ago, I was walking through the zoo with my previous "little sister" (who is also, ironically enough, a "D" initial.) As we passed, A little boy of about 9-10 years of age turned to his mother, pointed at D., and yelled, "Look Mama, there's a N*gger."

He was immediately pulled aside by his mother, and I gave that mother the most evil of my evil-eye glares. But I didn't say anything. I just grabbed D's hand a little tighter and hurried past. That moment has haunted me ever since. Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I defend her?

On March 1, I started with a new little sister. Conveniently, her name does NOT begin with a D. She's an A. I'd forgotten how challenging this first year of a match is - how hard it is to bridge the gap between her life and mine. But I'd also forgotten how much I am taught by children. And I'd forgotten how quickly I fall madly in love with a child in need.

I hope to god that I never experience a racial slur with A. But if I do, next time I promise I won't be silent. I'll march right up to that idiot and let it be known that there is no place in our world for such rudeness.

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