This blog post about my family has taken on a special significance, given the Ferguson grand jury's decision not to indict white police officer Darren Wilson in the fatal shooting of African-American teen Michael Brown. This case has drawn a renewed focus to the simmering racial tensions in this country.
The fact that so many of us are divided along racial lines gives me a greater appreciation of my family's rich diversity. It truly is a gift, as overly sentimental as that may sound.
Me and my brother Doug in the late '70s |
Here's what growing up in an interracial family taught me:
To deal with people as individuals. Whenever I had a disagreement with my stepfather, race never entered my mind. That's not to say that I don't ever encounter racism, but my diverse background has enabled me to see beyond people's skin color and look at their individual personality traits.
To appreciate other cultures. I like all different kinds of music, from R&B to hard rock, and have a natural curiosity about other cultures. I've always been drawn to Latin American music and culture and am learning to speak Spanish.
To have friends of different races. I have friends of many different backgrounds, from politically conservative white males to liberal black females and almost everything in between.
To incorporate diversity into my writing. In my journalism, I'm naturally drawn to diversity issues. In my creative writing, coming up with characters of different races is totally natural to me.
I know it's corny and trite to say what you're thankful for on Thanksgiving, but I feel it's nonetheless fitting to do so.
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