“Let’s play slaves,” my oldest said to my youngest.  I could hear them in the other room.

“I’ll be the slave and you be my owner.” she said to her.

I interjected from the other room (trying to be casual).  “What are slaves?”  I asked.

“A long time ago black people were taken and owned by white people.  The white people made them work for them.”

“Where did you hear that?” I asked.

“At school,  we learned about it today at school.” She said.

“And how do you feel about that?” I asked.  She looked at me with a blank, yet uncomfortable stare.  I reiterated, “How do you feel about white people owning black people, and I am white?”

“It’s O.K. Mom.  It happened a long time ago.  You’re white, but Daddy’s black, and you love him.  There are three black people living in our house, and you’re just one white person.  It happened a long time ago Mom, slavery is over now.”  Then she proceeded to tell me a very 1st grade version of a lady who was tired and didn’t want to sit in the back of the bus… and there was this man (MLK) who helped stand up for her rights.

And that was that.  My baby is no longer a “virgin”.  She now knows what sets her apart.  That was yesterday and then tonight I heard her muttering something about slavery to herself as we sat down to dinner.  She’s processing it all, in her six year old mind.  I feel helpless, and I know too that this is her path.  I have no control over her process, her lessons, her life.

And I know that “every little thing is gonna to be alright”*.

*Bob Marley -Three Little Birds.