It's not the brown one, is it?

I tried and tried to let it go.  Really, I did.  Then I thought: Why?  Why let it go?

After school yesterday, the girls and I got stuck in a long line on the sidewalk. There was a man in front of us walking with a third or fourth grade boy.  The boy was talking about his new "girlfriend".  The GROWN MAN said "It isn't the brown one, is it?".  The boy said, "no".  The GROWN MAN said "Good, cuz that's gross."

GROWN MAN to little boy.

In front of my two little girls and countless other little open minds.

What should I have done in that situation?  I couldn't do what I wanted to because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner.  I couldn't say all the things that were rushing to my mouth because I was surrounded by children.  And, I couldn't just do nothing because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner and surrounded by children.

In our tiny town, I would guess that it's approximately 95% Caucasian.  In the elementary school,there are maybe 20 kids of color.  So, there's a 10% chance this GROWN MAN was referring to one of my two children.  (If so, I assure him that there's a 0% chance his son has a chance in hell of getting one of mine to be his girlfriend.)  But it's not about my girls, it's about that little boy.  The kid who is growing up in a house that still believes that you can judge someone based on the small facets of themselves that they can't control.

Their skin tone.
The number of chromosomes they were born with.
The sexuality they grow into.
The country their parents were born in.

That little boy is being abused.  He's being verbally and emotionally beaten every time that GROWN MAN opens his mouth.

Judging people isn't all bad, but let's do it the new-fashioned way.  Let's do it based on every single thing they can control.

Their stupidity.
Their small minded-ness (and you know what they say about a man with a small mind...).
Their limited vocabulary (brown... really?).
Their complete lack of parenting skills.
And, their incessant need to wear camouflage every single place they go (hey, we can see you in the Wal-Mart checkout lane).

May that boy grow up to be a GROWN MAN better than the one he was shown.