When I was in fifth grade, I started a club by the swing set. Each day at recess, we performed cheerleading routines, transforming into the lively “Sparkle Squad” for a short burst of time between snack and lunch. Our club quickly gained popularity, and soon enough, we decided to hold tryouts. The swing area was packed, and who wants a club that’s open to everyone?
One day, a classmate (let’s call her Zara) showed up at the tryouts. She was energetic and had the brightest smile, and I thought to myself, “Zara should be part of our squad!” But then, another girl whispered to me that Zara couldn’t join because the scent of her hair “bothered” some people. She was different, and, perhaps influenced by the subtle prejudice that had begun to creep into my young heart, I reluctantly agreed and removed Zara’s name from the list.
The next day, I saw her in tears during class, and something inside me screamed that this was wrong. I quickly passed a note to my friend, questioning whether we had made a mistake. “Does Zara’s hair really bother you? Are you sure it isn’t something else?” Unfortunately, our teacher found the note.
My teacher was a well-dressed woman who carried herself with grace, proudly displaying her AKA keychain. When I inquired about the club, she welcomed me with open arms. But when she read my note, I could see the disappointment in her eyes. After class, she pulled me aside, and before she could say anything, I burst into tears.
“I just wanted everyone to be happy!” I insisted. I thought that point was crucial, as it seemed to justify my actions. But my teacher gently asked, “Was everyone happy?”
“No, Zara was definitely not happy,” I admitted.
“And who else wasn’t happy?” she probed.
It turned out that I wasn’t happy either. In that moment, I learned a valuable lesson: happiness built on the exclusion of others is not true happiness at all. I still feel a knot in my stomach, pondering the life lesson imparted to a sweet girl who simply wanted to dance with us. I carry deep shame for my actions and the misguided intent behind them. It doesn’t matter that we were “just kids.” Cruelty is cruelty. Hate is hate. And, of course, hurt is still hurt.
I hope this experience didn’t profoundly affect Zara, but I know it changed me. I share this story to remind us, as parents, of the critical role we play. We must cultivate inclusivity, advocacy, and kindness in our children. It is our duty to discuss racism, sexism, and all forms of discrimination with them.
We need to teach them to embrace differences without disregarding them. What we model in our homes will be mirrored by our children, who are packed with big feelings. So I pose this question: How are our children interacting on the playground?
Before we know it, these playgrounds will shape our society. We should strive to raise kids who are kinder, more inclusive, and more aware than we are. This journey starts now, with us—the parents. It starts with acknowledging our missteps and saying, “I was wrong, and I am truly sorry.”
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Summary
It’s essential for parents to guide our children towards kindness and inclusivity from a young age, teaching them to embrace differences and understand the impact of their actions on others. The lessons we impart today will shape a more compassionate society for tomorrow.