I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.~Martin Luther King, Jr.
February is Black History Month. I have heard that my grandsons are learning some important lessons in pre-school and pre-K about the contributions that black people have made to our country. My son recently posted this photo on Facebook of 5 year old Sam's project on Mary Eliza Mahoney, the first black nurse in America.
Of course I was touched to the core by Sam's use of me as the example of how to be caring. What grandmother doesn't want to be seen in this way by her beloved grandchildren! And his interpretative drawing of his grandmother as a skinny blond made me smile even bigger. I will admit to a few happy tears!
I've been thinking about Sam's project all week...
First of all, I think all my fellow nurses would be pleased that a 5 year old's description of a nurse is strong, brave, loving and caring. Yup... that's a nurse! I think of all the times I had to move a 200+ pound pregnant woman, immobilized by an epidural, up in bed or over on her side all by myself, or assist the surgeon during a cesarean using close to brute force to extricate the baby, or bend and stoop over and under a bed... well, no wonder my feet and joints are a mess. And having to intervene in a family dispute occurring in the hospital while a woman was in labor happened way more often than I care to think about, and it took some bravery. Or to call a physician in the middle of the night with bad news. And of course, Ms. Mahoney had all this and a terrible lot more to deal with. She did her nursing duties without the one huge obstacle I never had to face-- institutionalized bigotry. This is a burden so large I can't adequately speak to it, other than to say that she is indeed a superhero to me for having persevered through that.
But there is more to this than just a thank you to a nurse and an acknowledgement of her achievements. Look at Sam's drawings...
She was as strong as Iron MAN. As brave as a fireMAN. As loving as his family. As caring as his Grandma Barb. There is a lot of diversity in this...
Sam lives in a suburb of Washington, DC in what has to be one of the most diverse places in the country. The son of German/English and Italian/Irish parents, his classmates and friends are all colors, from all over the globe, diverse religions, and women and men who work outside and inside the home along side each other. In Sam's world, women are as strong and brave as men, and men are as caring and loving as women. And different religious beliefs mean he gets to participate in new holidays-- he loves the Sedar meal served during Passover at his friend's house, and singing songs about Hannukkah as well as Christmas in December. I have heard other languages I couldn't even identify spoken at his preschool program. And the diversity of culture means many, many different restaurant choices for us to try when we visit!
A kid growing up in this environment barely notices when people look or talk differently than he does... and so it was natural that he would describe a black woman from long ago (when women were seen as weak, and black people were routinely mistreated to the extreme...) in terms that are usually reserved for white male superheroes. I love this... Sam's view of the world is the one that feminists from his grandmother's era were striving for. And that I think Martin Luther King, Jr. was referring to when he gave his "I have a dream" speech. I'm not saying we've fixed racism, sexism, religious bigotry--not by a long shot. But Sam's experience gives me hope that it is possible.
Bless this little boy, and his mommy and daddy and his teachers and all his friends...
