When I asked my child how her day was, and my then 9-year-old daughter looked up from her dinner plate, pursed her lips, and nonchalantly reported that someone had called her the N-word at school. I was not prepared.
I did not see red, I wasn’t instantly reduced to tears. Instead, with my fork poised over my plate, I literally was speechless.
Yes, I know racism is alive and well
My stupefied reaction was not because I had not expected my child to experience being called the N-word.
I had decades of lived experience that told me this racial slur was alive and well. To be honest, I was only surprised it had taken this long to have this bit of racial violence hurled her way. As well, the incident occurred shortly after Donald Trump took office. Many folks were starting to show true colours when it came to racism. Hate speech, microaggressions and all manner of racial bias was bold, on display and pervasive.
This was before George Floyd’s execution and the social unrest that followed. Most non-marginalized people still “didn’t know” racism existed and were not yet acknowledging – or were actively choosing not to see – how the then-President evoked racism and bigotry.
So my child experiencing an open act of racism at their school or in their life wasn’t unexpected.
I was rendered momentarily speechless by my child’s composure. My concern was that she seemed a little too prepared.
In the moment, she shrugged and carried on with her commentary, filling in the rest of her story.
“Yeah, we were at the water fountain, and he called me the N-word to get me to hurry up.”
I wondered if she understood that the N-word was a bad thing
As she spoke, I searched her little nonchalant face and took in her demeanor. My mind raced through conversations we had had about racism to that point in her young life.
In the moment I questioned myself – had we ever had a conversation about racism? Did she not know what this meant? Had we kept it too “age appropriate” when we had spoken about everyone not liking everyone else yada yada yada?
I mean, I had not explained white supremacy to her as a system of oppression. Nor had I dived into the painful history of the N-word being used as a weapon to dehumanize our people. But, surely, we had made it clear that being called it was a bad thing?
It certainly wasn’t the first- or only-time her race had been an issue for her.
There had been the time when a little girl in her preschool refused to let my daughter join a game insisting “Black kids didn’t get play. This is whites only”.
And the time she had come home after making one of those family tree heritage posters at school. She asked where we were “really from” because the teacher had told her she hadn’t understood the assignment when she had drawn Canadian flags beside both her and her parents.
As I sat looking at her face, I combed through these incidents in my mind. I assured myself that we had age-appropriately explained the way her race could be perceived.
Deciding it best to break the silence, I asked the only think I could think of: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that – and how did that make you feel?”
What came next floored me.
My daughter knew the N-Word was not about her.
In a tone I can only describe as exasperated, she rolled her eyes and asked “Mom, I don’t know why he said that to me?”.
I was taken aback.
Wait. Did she not know she was Black?
Had I shielded her so much she was having some kind of racial identity crisis? Did she not understand that the N-word was a weapon that had been used against us for centuries?
That she was one of us?
As I fumbled and found my words, she jumped on my hesitation to finish her thought.
“I don’t know what made him think he could get away with saying that to me – that he could try that with me”, she said.
She was indignant.
I blinked and took a deep breath.
She went on a mini rant then, and I was thankful for a moment to recenter.
Here I was questioning myself and whether I had failed in every way possible as a Black parent and my girl was here offended not by a word but by the gall of this little boy to think she was an easy target.
As I exhaled a sigh of relief, I remember asking her what she told the teacher. When she said she didn’t need to and had “dealt” with him, I believed her. I still don’t know what that means or what she did. I didn’t ask. All I know is she didn’t use violence (because we all know I would have heard about that from the school) and that this boy never troubled her again.
I was always ready and yet was absolutely not ready when my child was called the N-word.
I had never known how I would handle it when my child confronted overt racism.
Truth be told, in this instance, I didn’t feel I had handled a damn thing. But I was thankful that clearly, I had (albeit inadvertently) done something right along the way leading up to this moment.
I was relieved my daughter left this encounter unbothered. She was annoyed, disgusted and never ever forgot the character of this boy and his family– but having this slur hurled at her didn’t seem to touch who she knew she was. His use of the N-word told her all she needed about this boy and had little to do with her.
That said, not everyone is this fortunate, nor is every Black child’s experience of racial violence so relatively tame.
Taking in all of the racial incidents in our schools, my daughter’s experience … can seem like the least of our problems.
Racial violence rings alarms we cannot ignore it is an epidemic in Canadian schools and other spaces. Black, Brown, Asian, and other marginalized children in this country suffer violent threats, harassment and physical abuse because of their racial identity. It can seem like every minute someone in their lives – from classmates to teachers to teammates – are slinging the N-Word, wearing Blackface or doing some nonsense that makes the spaces they are in a little less safe for them.
It isn’t just in our imagination or anecdotal experiences.
Arguably kids spend the most time in school. Data released in the Toronto District School Board’s (TDSB) 2021 Human Rights report characterizes racism as a serious problem in its board. Incidents of antisemitism and homophobia have risen at an alarming rate but incidents citing anti-Black racism exceeded all other incidents reported by a wide margin.
With more than 245,000 students and 40,000 staff, the TDSB is one of the largest and most diverse boards. The Human Rights report suggests that the challenges seen in this school board mirror societal challenges with racism.
The steady feed of incidents of racialized trauma filmed, photographed and witnessed by children in multiple school boards across Ontario every single school year seem to bear this research out.
Real harm is done when Black kids are subjected to continued stress due to their racial identity. The impact on mental health is real. Recent studies indicate that bullying, racism, and mental health concerns have contributed to increased suicide in Black children ages 5 to 12.
This research also indicates that the suicide rate for Black girls is increasing twice as fast as the rate for Black boys.
Support exists for Black children and their families
Taking all of this in, my daughter’s experience disarming the N-Word can seem like the least of our problems.
It’s not. It’s egregious.
I am thankful that in my daughter’s case, she was not subjected to ongoing abuse. And when the N-word was hurled at her, whatever our village had done before that moment diffused the intended harm. Her indignance helped largely shield her psyche.
Despite her cool confidence, I spent time talking to my daughter about the impact of this child’s words. I also expressed my desire that if anything like this happened again, she would tell a teacher and call me. This incident happened before she had her own cell phone. Nowadays she knows to take a video or picture of the offender and text or call me immediately.
In cases where children are continuously abused and targeted by racial violence, the solution is not that easy but support does exist. Several groups exist to help parents navigate these challenges.
Within athletics, several groups are helping to make sport safer for our kids. Some of the organizations Black hockey parents need to know offer help to parents hoping to see greater equity and inclusion within sports. These groups can provide you with advice should your child experience targeted exclusion while playing sports.
As for incidents in schools, Parents of Black Children is an advocacy group that has become renowned. Not only does POBC help to support parents as they challenge issues of racism within the school system, but they lobby the government for system-wide change. If a child experiences ongoing issues within the education system, Parents of Black Children can help you navigate the system and ensure your voice is heard.
Know your resources and recourses
Every part of me wishes I could guarantee my children would never be called the N-word or other derogatory names. I wish racial violence wasn’t going to happen. I hope one day there is a formula that outlines how parents can hold folks accountable when their child is targeted.
Some folks happily suggest that neither they or their child experience any bad thing to do with their racial identity. I wish that experience were true for more families. Instead, every year parents raise concerns to school officials, coaches and the media to voice their outrage over racial violence.
There may be no way to protect our children forever from being called the N-word. It’s more than likely a matter of when, not “if” your child will be targeted because of their racial identity. As kids get older, they are also exposed to racist assaults others experience. They see them on the evening news, hear about them on social media or are told by their friends.
I think most parents fall back on preparing our children in every way to understand that the N-Word and its use is not about them, but about the person that is using it. It seems all we can do is know our resources and recourses. We prepare ourselves and our children before the inevitable happens and hope their sense of self survives in the aftermath.
