BIG conversations with little people

As a mother I have never shied away from big conversations. There are some things, given, that need to be repackaged for little hearts and minds to digest and absorb. Most things can be simplified. Race is one of those things.

This week our news-feeds have been inundated with posts of unified outrage at the murder of an innocent man at the hands of the delegated authority who was meant to protect and serve him. Haunting videos footage of a suffocating man under the literal weight of racism and police brutality have impacted us all deeply. We are moved and reminded of the depths of depravity in the human soul. How do we translate this to our kids? As parents wants to protect our kids from the reality of evil. I for one don't want to taint there simplistic, naive view of people and the world by introducing the warped, wrong ways by which some people see others. But how do we adequately prepare our kids to live in a world where this evil exists if we don't open up conversations about it at home? When my 8 year old walked into the room, I was folding washing, watching news footage of the riots in the USA. He walked in as they switched to the shot of the police officer kneeling on George Floyd's neck. Needless to say, we had a conversation about what was going on in the world over dinner.

I remember a year or two ago, watching a movie with our kids about Nelson Mandela. We had to explain and add some context around the social climate of the 'old South Africa'. The South Africa I was born into.

I realised with absolute joy and sadness that my kids had no idea about racism. I explained to the kids that as a young girl I played at playgrounds that still had the 'white' park down the bottom and the 'black' park up the top. The signs were taken down but the evidence of apartheid was still a part of our everyday lives. I remember the hot pools, just outside of the town where we had a holiday house, even in the 'new South Africa', cars were stopped at the gate and only white people were allowed in.  I explained this foreign concept to the kids, how once upon a time, people of colour were treated as less human with less rights than us white people. Abby's best friends at Kindy were twin black girls. I told her about a world where she wouldn't have been at the same Kindy as her friends or allowed to play with them. I remember the blank look of confusion on their faces and remember my then 8 year old girl asking, "But why?" She was so confused about how this could happen.

I was proud to grow up in the next era, an era where racism certainly wasn't dead but we had made so much progress from the South Africa my parents grew up in. I had friends of every colour. I didn't see colour. I saw people, souls, friends.

I am so proud of the fact that my kids don't see colour but I can't let them live in ignorance to the ugly  cancer that racism is. As optimistic and full of love as our hearts can be, the reality is, the human heart is inherently evil, the broken world we live in is a reflection of that. If we are going to raise kids who are just 'oblivious' to skin colour but fail to see the world their 'other' friends, brothers and sisters live in, we have not succeeded in preparing them to make things different.

In our discussions about racism back then, we walked around the museum. I showed them pictures of Hitler and faces of ones who died because a people group decided that they weren't 'human'. I showed them the cartoons depersonalising Jewish people and the disabled. We learn about Anne Frank and the little girl who like them, had to hide away in an attic because people hated so deeply. I told them stories of our own family's helper back when my dad was little, Alfred. How when the police came around, my grandparents would hide him away so he wouldn't be found because 'he wasn't supposed to be there'. I showed the kids Robben Island and the cell where Nelson Mandela spent years of his life. Even our most recent history is filled with atrocities fuelled by hate and greed.

So we talked about George Floyd. I showed them his photo and some video footage of him. I explained what happened. Questions came like, "why didn't anyone stop those policemen?" To which I had no answer. Then came the anger, "If I had a gun I would have shot those men!" My kids were so angry. Angry at the loss of a life. Good. They see injustice. I explained that once upon a time the mob did decide how justice is served. If there was public outcry, they would take people who had committed crimes against them or their community and have public lynchings. I explained that in civilised society, one of the differences is that everyone is given a fair trial. We allow evidence to be presented, both sides of the argument to be heard and for a judge and jury of our peers to decide our fate.

How do we as parents raise up the next generation, setting them up for success if we don't teach them empathy, to stand up for injustice? Can we truly be a 'success' without learning empathy, compassion and asking ourselves the question, 'What can I do to make this better?'

I want my kids to know about the oppression of Christians in China. I want my kids to know about the farmers who are being slaughtered and murdered on their farms in Africa. I want my kids to know about the fear in the heart of African American people who live in the States. I want my kids to recognise how words and attitudes can divide and cause pain in people groups, to wounds that have been left open for generations. We have not caused the wounds, we cannot feel guilt and shame over those who did. They are not us. We can only learn to be ones who see, ones who recognise pain and who use our words and actions to bring healing and connection.

I believe that it is possible to change things but we must first examine our hearts. Are we living in a way that teaches our children to stand up for what is right? Are we using our voice in our everyday example to them to point out differences and undermine another culture's value? Or are we walking them through history so they can see where people have come from? Are we truly teaching them, and reminding ourselves, to see things from new perspectives, from uncomfortable and confronting perspectives? From a position of humility acknowledging that we will never truly understand but we can try. And we can commit to connection and understanding.


What unprecedented times we are living in. As much as I'd like to bury my head in the volcanic sand of our island nation at the ends of the earth and pretend the world isn't broken, I can't. Because the problems in the world are on our own back doorstep. In our churches. In our schools. The problem of the broken human heart need addressing. I don't write this with any prescription for immediate change but with hope that if we all take stock of our hearts, are humble enough to acknowledge where we are falling short and commit to teaching our kids to do better, surely good will come of that.