As it turns out, our tribute reached a greater audience than I had intended. I initially set out to teach my little girl, but as I researched different women, I gained greater knowledge for myself. And it soon became apparent that a lot more people were learning with us. It seems that we have inspired people of all ages, sexes, and races.
I am grateful for all of the responses, but I’m surprised as well. Although it wasn't anything we sought initially, we welcomed the attention because the positive feedback showed that we were teaching people and connecting emotionally. Several people have said that they would like to do the same thing with their children and I’ve seen a few photos from people who have already emulated our project. People have even told me how much sentimental value Ava’s pictures have for them.
Conversely, I was also met with a surprising amount of contention. A number of baiting naysayers offered comments that ranged from silly to outlandish to violent. An unbelievable amount of people insisted that my black history lessons for my black daughter were racist. The most popular of the negative sentiments contended that teaching black history only serves to remind/inform people of past ills. I was accused of perpetuating hatred and teaching my daughter about the racial woes of slavery. My daughter was called ugly and I was told that I should receive a brutal lashing. I addressed several commentators either refuting them without further conversation or asking that we engage intelligently.
Honestly, I was initially a little bothered by some of the comments. It wasn’t that I took the comments personally; I was irritated with people’s racial ignorance. I quickly got over the upset and I found yet another teachable moment for my daughter: People hate what they fear and they fear what they do not understand. That assertion doesn’t apply to everyone, but it has proven to be true. A part of me saw the opportunity to further explain racism to Ava. Yet, a greater part of me was reluctant to corrupt or confuse her impressionable mind.
To one particularly violent commentator, I responded, “I'm not ready to let my five-year-old know that racists want me lashed for teaching her about others' accomplishments. [But] I will let her know that no matter good she is, there will always be someone to spew hate and negativity.”
I keep reiterating that my daughter is a five-year-old. At times, her age speaks to her readiness to learn. On the other hand, her age sometimes discourages my willingness to teach. And that’s where mothering becomes difficult. When Ava portrayed the women, she tried to mimic their expressions down to the subtle nuances. Mimicking the facial expressions actually encouraged Ava to ask more questions about each figure. And her questions inspired more talking points for me. With Harriet Tubman for example. Ava wanted to know why she wore a grimace and seemed unhappy. I gave an age appropriate explanation to help Ava understand the gravity of Harriet’s story.
Throughout the entire lesson, I used the same conversational tone to give Ava age appropriate explanations to help her understand our history—American history. Peppered in with talks of achievement and celebration were light mentions of slavery, civil rights, and martyrs. That sounds oxymoronic, but I tried to present the information factually rather than emotionally because again, I didn’t want to affect my daughter’s innocence. So, when the racial comments inspired a teachable moment, I knew how I needed to approach the situation. But I didn’t do it.
I decided to hold out a little longer. I am not afraid and I am not encouraging naïveté. I just want to do things the right way at the right time. That is my responsibility as a mother. Besides, I plan to have this title for the rest of my life. There will be plenty teachable moments and several opportunities to talk to and share with each other. And we will continue to learn together. To me, that it is the beauty of motherhood.