A sunny spring afternoon. My 5 year old son is turning cartwheels in the middle of the square. Two small children walk up and watch for a moment. “What a funny *Kushi* child,” one says to the other. They walk off.
My son stop, stares after them, walks to me slowly. “Daddy, those children laughed at me because I’m black.”
I pause. What can I say? The truth as I see it, I suppose.
“And what’s funny about being black?” I ask my son.
He chews it over for a moment. He smiles. “Nothing.” And runs off, to continue turning life upside down.