One fine morning, I woke up sad, afraid, and angry. It was the morning after I had a heartbreaking and necessary conversation with my 9-year-old daughter about racial injustice. As I tucked her in that night, she said matter of factly, “Let’s cancel the bike ride for tomorrow.”
Discrimination is not a new experience for a brown-skinned, petite, physician of Asian-Indian origin. However, it was a new fear for a parent raising two brown-skinned children. I could not keep them in a bubble forever. Then, in the middle of a pandemic, reared the ugly head of racism in American society. It was not just me—the universe could not keep her children in a bubble anymore.
Talking is a good place to start.
How do you talk to your child about back-to-back senseless, heartless killings of African American fellow citizens by neighbors and law officers, while knowing that these incidents are just the tip of the iceberg? Talk we did—parent and child. Yes, we talked about Black, white, brown, and other shades in between; about gender; and about age. My daughter’s questions were sharp and wise; my answers as clear as they could be. Despite my best efforts, fear was instilled, and my feisty 9-year-old erred on the cautious side. We canceled the bike ride for the next day.
As a person with a strong internal locus of control, I believed that I held power over my destiny, my choices determine my future. This time a subtle feeling of discomfort crept in. The morning moved along and so did my emotional turmoil. The presence of discomfort felt so correct; the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness, and, yes, anger too. The inequalities of society and the resultant questions, actions, and introspections. All of it. Yes, the courageous conversations need to happen.
Talking is a good place to start.
Thoughts of my lifelong hero, Maya Angelou, American writer, poet, and civil rights activist, come to me in these times. Her poem “Still I Rise” has been a guiding light, where optimism and values rise above victimhood. This change starts within me, the courage to speak up and the acceptance of the discomfort that follows. I choose to be honest about my struggles, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and openness to learn and take a stand. Yes, I have felt isolated at times, afraid also. What if I lose my friendships, my community? What if I find myself lonely on this journey? Have I not been there too many times? Has the pain not numbed me enough? My values speak up this time. My values stand tall this time. This is the time for hope to rise over fear and for speech to rise over silence.
Yes, there have been times I have taken two steps forward and three steps backward. I have clenched my fists hard, held words at the tip of my tongue, and shut my eyes tightly when they should have been wide open.
Today is not that time. Today, talking is a good place to start. ■
