COLOR LOVE
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The Day My Daughter Became The Color Black
When I held my newborn daughter in my arms for the first time, all I could think about was how much I loved her. She is a gift from God. I did not carefully analyze the color of her skin. I refuse to give meaning to something as meaningless in my eyes as skin color or race.
Recall the outrage of Harry and Meghan when this type of discrimination was done to their royal child. I believe that we are all a part of the human race and that race is a false, socially constructed concept. People are not meant to be reduced to lifeless colors in a Crayola coloring box. My love for my daughter multiplied by the millions as I watched her grow and develop. I could tell she would live up to the first four letters in her name, K-I-N-D. She was sweet, generous, independent, curious, and creative.
Her beauty had nothing to do with the color of her skin. As her mother, I dreaded the inevitable day when she would learn that in this world, she would “not be judged by the content of her character but by the color of her skin.”
With Kindra’s permission, I am sharing with you the true story of the painful day her childhood innocence was lost and replaced with the devastating concepts of racism and discrimination. My primary goal in sharing this story and even writing on this social media platform is to share the good news of God’s love, which never ends. This is why I sign my signature line with the phrase “abundant love.” I also advocate for a world where love is available for all, thus, the title of my blog is “Love is Accessible.”
I hope this story moves you to color the world with love, not hate. If we all spread love by sharing God’s love from within and reaching out with love to others, then the world will be a brighter, more vibrant, and colorful place.
Color Love!
The Day My Daughter Became The Color Black
Written by Debra Hill
A true story dedicated to my daughter, Kindra. She is the color Love.
Like most parents, I was excited but also anxious about my daughter’s entry into the world of public school. She would be leaving my safe and nurturing home and entering the new world of public school. She would be exposed to other children, be under the authority of a teacher, and be under the control of the policies and rules of an educational institution. At the same time, I was thrilled to imagine the burst of knowledge I expected Kindra to learn in kindergarten. She would learn all the primary colors by using crayons to color rainbows. She would learn shapes like circles, squares, and triangles using building blocks. She would learn about measurements like inches by using a ruler and learning to count numbers. I couldn’t wait to hear the conversations we would have together when she came home from school when I asked her, “How was your day?”
One day, Kindra burst through the door, uncharacteristically threw down her bookbag, and tearfully rushed into my arms. Shocked, I wrapped my arms around her and asked, “What’s the matter, baby?”
Looking in my eyes, she defiantly cried out, “I am not Black!”
Now, that was the last thing I expected to hear from my 5-year-old’s mouth. My heart fluttered as I inquired, “What happened? Why are you saying that?”
Kindra opened her book bag, and her tiny fingers carefully found the black-colored crayon in her crayon box. She held it up for my attention. Then, held it against the skin of her arm. Again, she cried, “I am not black! This is black! I am not black!” She said with exasperation.
I asked, “Who told you you are black?”
She said that the other kids told her she was black, and the teacher told her she is black.
She retrieved her bag once more and pulled out the brown crayon, repeating the process of comparing the color against her own skin. Sounding a little confused, she said, “Well, this is brown. I am more brown than black. But I’m not really brown either!” She stomped her foot in dismay.
Imagine how sad I felt, that my daughter had experienced for the first time a label placed on her, identifying her as something she did not quite understand. Children learn from us. She lost an innocence that day that could never be reclaimed. From that moment forward, Kindra and I worked together to rebel against all bigotry, hatred, racism, and discrimination.
Unfortunately, this lesson did not end with color. She also learned that shapes, like circles, did not only mean the way something was structured. It also had positive and negative connotations, leading to stereotypes about eye shapes, nose shapes, and body shapes. Even measurements, like numbers and inches, had different meanings. She learned that you can be discriminated against because of the number of years you have lived on this earth, or even by your body’s height and weight. What a shame.
I am so proud that Kindra soon lived a life with an intense focus on not accepting labels for herself or others. In fact, after this terrible incident, she actually refused to color with crayons for a number of years. She would only draw with black ink, and her figures were shaped like lines and looked like little mice.
Here is a reenacted example of one of her drawings:
I literally have hundreds of these types of pictures, and I recall going up to her school and having a Talk with her kindergarten teacher who tried to force her to color. You know who won that battle.
Kindra even taught me about my own biases because I loved to dress her older sister in frilly dresses and bright, “feminine” colors. Kindra would say to me, “No. I do not want or have to wear these types of clothes. I do not have to wear colors like this, or colors that match.” She was actually ahead of her time in terms of fashion, because she would mix and match a variety of colors and shapes which became an avant garde thing later for many designers.
I also recall that Kindra hated going to the “beauty” parlor, where she would have to sit for hours and have her hair unhealthily and painfully relaxed with permanent hair relaxers. I was forcing her to wear her hair in straight styles that looked good in ponytails, ribbons, and bows. She much preferred wearing her long, thick beautiful curls loose and free. She was a trendsetter in this regard as well, for now many women of color are sporting their natural hair and no longer damaging their gorgeous locks. She also influenced many of her friends to go natural in high school and college, as she set this example of not accepting someone else’s definition of beauty.
Kindra now at times prefers to use the personal pronouns of “they” and “them” to define their gender. They chose to live and love according to their desires, not dictated by mandated gender roles and prejudices. They married someone who loves them for who they are, and their love transcends gender and color.
While Kindra, as an adult, now understands that race is not real, but racism is, and there are structural and material reasons why people are grouped together due to affinity and solidarity movements, they still live by the ethos that the content of one’s character and values rooted in love, mutual respect, integrity, and accountability matters most of all.
Although I am sorry that my daughter had this traumatic experience, I am thankful that I—as well as many others in our lives—taught them to see beyond color, to character. As a blind person myself, who cannot see the color of anyone’s skin upon our first meeting, it is my hope that once I interact with a stranger and I experience their words and deeds towards myself and others, that I smile and say to myself, “That person is the color Love.”
Kindra’s interests span through many areas as they have come to understand the intersectionality of all things: nature, technology, humanity, and virtues. Through their free time and professional work, Kindra strives to make the world a better place for everyone. Collaborating alongside their mother, Debra Hill, Kindra is proud to have worked as the scholarship manager for the Graduate Shine Awards for years now, and serving as the managing editor for Debra Hill’s narrative coloring book, Today & Forever.
Debra Hill
Debra Hill is an independent inspirational singer, author, songwriter, and writer. As a blind performer, she adds a personal story of God’s faithfulness. Her life exemplifies that Christ’s power will work to lift all regardless of circumstances.
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