FacingRacismLR

What’s on the Menu?
Deanna’s story by WaTasha Barnes Griffin
Deanna is a pseudonym and she is in 7th grade.
I live in a vibrant house full of color, compassion, tolerance, and acceptance. Many people
in the community know that my parents are of different races, and that my siblings each have
DNA’s that are blended with love. You want to know the race of my parents, don’t you?
Okay, okay, my dad is Italian American and my mom is African. To some of you, that might
seem strange, but to us it is nothing out of the ordinary.
My mom and dad teach me to treat each and every one that I meet with kindness, even when
I don’t think they deserve it. I have also been taught that not everyone will extend that same
respect and kindness to me.
One fall morning, I was sitting in my science class with my stomach growling louder than the
teacher’s voice-signaling to me and all those within earshot, that lunchtime is on its way. Mind
you that this is the last class prior to my lunch period. Although I am attentively listening to
our teacher go on and on about ancient Rome, my mind is already thinking of what is on the
lunch menu.
Finally, the 11:20 a.m. bell rings to dismiss us from class and now it’s lunchtime! Time to
quiet this beastly belly growl that I have going on, time to unwind and let down my hair, and
yep, it is time to kick it and socialize with my friends!
I get to the cafeteria and race through the hordes of kids to get to the tray line. I look at the
menu and make my food selections. As I make my way back through the cafeteria, waving
and saying “Hello” as I go, attempting to balance my lunch tray all at the same time, I notice
that several of my friends have already beat me to “our” claimed lunch table. I join them
and, before long, Allie, Mackenzie, Marie, and I are eating from a diverse group of foods
and chatting away. Someone has hot Cheetos, snack cakes, and milk, another has a salad, one
has Subway that was carried in by her mother, and I have the standard cafeteria selections,
hooray!…Not. All four of our racial profiles are just as unique as our food choices, and yet we
are the best of friends.
My friend Allie, who is Caucasian, begins to talk about her relationship with her boyfriend,
David, who is black. She says that her mother knows she is dating a black guy, but her dad does
not. She states that if her dad knew that she was dating a black guy, he would be very upset
with her, have a conniption fit, or disown her. So to avoid a big ol’ misunderstanding, she and
her mother have decided to keep this little secret, named David, to themselves. Mackenzie,
who is also Caucasian, shakes her head from side to side and says, “Really Allie? Now that you
are mentioning it, I never understood how you could date David. I will never date a black guy
because my religion states that the black and white races should not mix. The Bible says that
whites are to date whites and blacks should only date blacks—we all should just date within
our own color.”
My mouth drops open in shock; luckily no flies are swarming around, gross right? I am
flabbergasted by what I am hearing sitting at this lunch table in the school cafeteria. This
conversation was definitely not on the lunch menu! I mean, really? My dear friend Mackenzie
really thinks this way? Is she a racist? I am black, so is she only pretending to like me?
There are so many thoughts running through my mind, disbelief being the main one. So I ask
Mackenzie what her religion is and she replies, “I am of the Christian faith.” I respond by
saying, “Mackenzie, I am of the Christian faith, too. Where in the Bible did you find scripture
that’s says that blacks and whites should not date?” “Oh, I cannot remember exactly. My
mother tells us that ’God didn’t intend for the black and white races to mix,’ all of the time.
Heck, we can just Google it and see,” Mackenzie says with a giggle.
I feel my fury begin to rise up inside of me, but I keep my cool on the surface. I think to
myself, “Wow, all of those times I have spent hanging out with the Jones family, and I never
knew Mrs. Jones was racist? What about Mackenzie’s dad? Wait, are they really racist?”
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