Whenever I hear the word "racism," I think back to a friend I had in second grade named Christopher. Christopher, it turned out, wasn't big on black people. One afternoon, the two of us were playing on a jungle gym when two black boys asked to join us.
To Christopher, if the jungle gym integrated, it was only a matter of time before the slide and swing set toppled as well. This required swift action.
"You can't play with us," he snapped coldly. "You're different."
Unlike Christopher, I actually paid attention to my teacher's explanation of how Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks effectively ended racism in America. As an enlightened intellectual, I hoped to distance myself from the bigoted bumpkin next to me.
"Come on, Chris," I said. "Martin Luther King..."
I intended to complete the sentence, but no more words came out. All I remembered about Dr. King was that he had a dream and scored us a day off of school, neither of which seemed relevant on the jungle gym.
It didn't matter. The two black kids shrugged and walked away, and the 7-year-old Jim Crow nodded with the resolve of an elderly juror.
How could I let this happen? If this were the real world, I assured myself, Christopher and I would surely be thrown in jail along with the child molesters and puppy killers. Grown-ups just didn't do that kind of thing.
I avoided Christopher after that experience. I preferred not to be the lieutenant of the second-grade skinheads.
For me, the jungle gym episode stands out as an example of racism because of its simplicity: an oppressor, a victim and an ignorant bystander.
Today, racism is a subtler, more complicated demon, surfacing in inappropriate jokes, hiring practices and reality television casting.
Now that I'm older, I like to think I understand the history of the Civil Rights Movement and the battles fought by the African-American community. But I've never fought those battles.
When I was ostracized on the playground, the reasons cited were lack of athleticism and a tendency to rat out the kids with cigarettes - not my skin color.
I'll never know why Christopher didn't want to play with those boys or what was running through their minds as they walked away.
I'm still just as clueless as I was on that jungle gym. It's just now I'm aware of it.
