Does beauty have a color?

On a beautiful Tuesday afternoon as I was driving to school to pick up Madison, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and for some reason answered the call anyway. The person on the other end identified herself as the director of the YMCA after school program where Madison spends a couple of hours every day during the week. The caller assured me Maddie was fine, but wanted to make me aware of a "situation" that occurred earlier in the afternoon.

Whenever a teacher, or person of authority, starts out the conversation with mention of a "situation", it can not be good. I remember the time Madison's pre-school teacher asked me to step outside to discuss a "situation". I was mortified. And then she told me what Madison had shared with the class. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Maddie apparently told the classroom we had a naked neighbor. In addition to thinking the sweet black child was being raised by 2 white women, this poor teacher now had images of our living in a nudist colony. Upon firther investigation, Madison was referring to the retired gentleman who lived next door and made a practice of mowing the lawn without a shirt. To a 5 year old, this was naked.

The caller began telling me how 2 little boys had informed Madison she could not or was not beautiful because she is black. I gasped out loud in the van. How could anyone say something so horrible to MY baby who is not only physically stunning but riddled with personality and humor? Who could be so cruel to say something so categorically untrue and hurtful to MY baby? And then I began to fume. Hot, molten lava fume. I punched the gas peddle with my foot and began asking questions like

Is Madison ok?
Did she cry?
Where are these 2 little boys now?
How are YOU going to handle this "situation"?
What is the YMCA's policy on this type of cruelty?

I was wizzing into the parking lot of the school when I finally hung up with Madam Director. Kim and I walked a short distance from the van to the building. I was out for blood. Kim says I was walking faster than usual and swinging my arms as if ready to pounce on the first child who crossed my path. I was ready to pounce. I was ready to drag some little red neck white boy out behind the dumpsters and show him who is ugly. Fortunately, said red neck white boy did not come my way, but instead my sweet, precious, often mouthy Madison greated us at the door. We both hugged her and looked for Madam Director.

Madison did cry when these boys were ugly to her and the YMCA did what I would say was a fabulous job in consoling her. It was also explained the YMCA has a zero tolerance policy and the boys would be written up for bullying another child at school. The parents of both boys had been contacted. She took the wind right out of my sails! What more could I say? It happened and it was handled. But what would happen when we were at home?

I braced myself for serious melt down at home. On the short ride home, Kim explained how what the boys had done was bad and that Madison handled the situation well. She also pointed out how important it is never to hit someone even when they hurt your feelings. We talked about how beautiful she is and how perfect, just as God made her. We were saying all the right things, but what would happen at home? How deeply had their words cut her? For how long would she hear those words in her head?

I waited all evening for some mention of the "situation" but it never came. Madison jumped on the trampoline with her 2 sisters for quite a while and then we ate dinner. Homework was completed and baths taken without incident. As I tucked her into bed, I tried to bring it up.

"You know you can talked to me about anything even if you think I may get mad or it might hurt my feelings. You can say anything to me. I always want to know what you think and how you feel."

"I know Mommy."

"Those boys," I started.

"I know Mommy. It's ok."

"They just don't know," I continued.

"Mommy, it's ok. You can stop."

"But, I just hate," I tried again.

"Stop Mommy! It's ok."

I never saw a single tear yesterday. I never heard the story from Maddie's lips. She has yet to bring it up. I will try again to talk to her about it, but I think maybe, just maybe, we may have prepared her for this day. Maybe, just maybe, telling her every day of her life how beautiful and how amazing she is has made an impression. Maybe, just maybe, the words hurt her, but she knew the message was bogus. Maybe, just maybe, we are raising a confident young lady who has a strong backbone and a sensative heart. Maybe, just maybe, Madison knows the secret the world has yet to learn - Beauty is every color. Maybe, just maybe, I won't have to drag those raggedy little boys behind the dumpster after all.