ignorance · love · neighbors

“I Hate Mexicans…”

These were the words I heard coming from my seven year old neighbor as she sat next me to on my family swing, glaring at our new neighbors. I was shocked. If I was 30 years older and had high cholesterol I would have fallen over dead from a heart attack. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” was all that I could muster. I then collected myself and returned to the normal state of being an adult and politely stated that we don’t judge whether we like people based on their skin color or where they’re from, we look at what they do to determine whether or not we want to be friends.

She stared at me blankly and then I looked down to see the cast on her arm. What if a person said they didn’t like people who had casts on their arms? “But I have a cast on my arm,” she replied. “Exactly!” It’s not fair to say someone wouldn’t be your friend simply because you’ve broken your arm, right?” She smiled. “Right” :).

I’m not sure if it sunk in or not. And sadly, these ideas don’t just wander into a child’s head, they’re planted there by other adults, caretakers, who are suppose to give a crap about this world and others and instead they insist on instilling hatred and ignorance.

I hope to meet my new neighbors, share some stories, maybe even recipes, and invite them to have a sit on my swing for some laughter and possibly even to  break down a small wall built around a little girl.

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5 thoughts on ““I Hate Mexicans…”

  1. I agree this seed of hatred was planted by an adult. I often wonder if we will ever get past racism in this country. It looks like I just got my answer to that question – not as long as we have ignorant adults teaching our children hatred. Glad you explained how wrong it is to judge a person my their skin and not the content of their character.

  2. Oh my goodness…that made my heart hurt. I really appreciate everything that you said to her and the way that you said it. Hopefully you dug that weed of a seed right out of her and planted a fresh seed of tolerance and love. I deal A LOT with family and friends who think it is funny to make Mexican jokes. My Daddy was Mexican and it hurts me everytime. I’m proud of where I come from!

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