Unity

“At the end of the day, I took class five out to the field to play a game. After the bell was rung to dismiss for the day, several girls stayed behind. They examined my arms as usual. Today they noticed my freckles. So some of them asked, ‘Teacha, what are these dots?’

“ I explained that they were the result of soaking in the sun. ‘When I go outside, my skin gets dark, but not as dark as yours. There are little spots on my arms that so badly want to be Kenyan that they turn dark. That’s what freckles are.’ This made them smile.

“Then one girl said, ‘Teacha, I want to be white like you!”

“I immediately responded. ‘Why do you want to be white? I want to be dark!’

“I told them that since I was white, I was treated differently from them. My skin color sticks out in a crowd like a sore thumb. It is impossible to walk down a road and not hear, ‘Mzungu! I am needing some money,’ or ‘Take me to America!’ Going unnoticed even on my short walk home from school each day is not an option. Children of all ages run up to me, grab my hand, lead me to a shop, point to something in the window, and say, ‘Teacha, buy for me this!’ But how could I explain this to children?

“I continued, ‘…but we should we should each love our own skin color.’

“One of my pupils then asked, ‘Teacha, if you get cut by a razor, what color is your blood?’

“Many argued for a few minutes.

“‘Green!’

“‘Orange!’

“‘No, it’s black! I’ve seen it!’

“Then I stopped them. ‘You have black hair; I have brown. You have dark skin; I have white. You have brown eyes; I have green. But if someone peeled all of our skin off, you would not be able to tell me from you. You would see red blood, two lungs, bones, and a heart. We look different on the outside, but we are exactly the same on the inside. We aren’t different. God gave us different skin colors for a reason, though we don’t know what it is.’”

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Everyone.

Every. Single. Person.

All of the inhabitants of the earth.

All of us.

We need this lesson. To young children, the lesson is easily learned. They can know with confidence that we may look different, but that does not mean that we are different. It is simple to explain to a fifth grader that the blood of a white person is the same as that of a black person. It is simple to explain that we live in different countries and we speak different languages, but we are still united through the love of Jesus. It is simple to explain that skin color does not determine who you are; your heart and your desires are the determining factor. To teach this to ten and eleven year-olds is simple. They understand. But to those of us who are past primary school, who are past the stage of trusting everything we learn, who have entered to stage of doubt and disbelief, who are thought to be wiser than children, this lesson is tough. We have grown up to believe the stereotypes that are associated with each race, gender, and people groups. We refuse to believe that our differences could possibly be united in a common goal. We choose to accept the roles and the labels that society has chosen for us because they must be the truth. 

Along with this, we chose to believe that the lies made up about people who are different from us are the truth.

I don’t know who decided that wazungu blood is black or that white people never get hurt. This portrays us to be individuals who are better than others. But are either of those stereotypes true? No. I have red blood. I hurt myself all the time by tripping over thin air and face planting!

My skin color does not make me better than anyone else.

And neither does yours.

Because, like I told my class five girls, if someone were to peel off all of our skin, we would look exactly the same. Red blood. Lungs. A heart. Bones. Organs. Everything. A difference could not be seen between me and you.

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“They needed to hear this. But they still had one last question concerning our differences. ‘Cha, when you are running, do you ever fall down?’

“I threw my head back and simply laughed. ‘Girls, I fall down more than you! God created me to be a clumsy person to bring joy to others. Yes, I fall down all the time, and I don’t even have to be running to trip!’

“My girls laughed a little bit. We then walked arm in arm with one another until we needed to part ways to our own homes.”


I am living a life full of sorrow and joy, differences and similarities, prejudice and peace. Most importantly, though, my life is becoming an example that these extremes can be united for the same purpose. And that, my friends, is pure bliss.

Loving always,
Bekah