White, nice?

At our weekly inter-racial-faith-conversation (should get a shorter name for this), I played with two children in Zandspruit at the pick-up point. I enjoy kids, their spontaneity and endless appetite for more. I frequently get into the trap of starting a game that I want to quit on loooong before I'm allowed to. At some point in our playing, the one girl (I guess about 4 years old) started stroking my arm with her small hands and I heard her say "white". I followed her example, stroked over her forearm and hand and asked "what colour is this?". She replied "black". She went for a second round and after brushing over my arm again, she said "nice". I was caught off-guard and was stumped for a response. I guess I could have said "thank you". I ended up returning the gesture.

The girl's frankness surprised me. I guess political incorrectness has become scarce in a world where the opinions of toddlers don't count. Basic scripts of black and white exists at the age of 4. It is part of our social DNA. As much as we often talk about being colour-blind, there's no denying our differences. I'm all for a kind of emphasis on quality of character rather than colour of skin. I'm all for blind (read "indiscriminate") social practises that can lead to social justice and equity. But, recognising colour, and celebrating it's "niceness" is much needed.

I'm also not oblivious to the possibility that for this girl, the white guy, with the car and the Lindt chocolate (complimentary to the Vida Caffe coffee I bought earlier) might be associated with "vida real", the good life. Quite frankly, I prefer to read today's interaction differently. But the question of whether this girl connects with the beauty of black for now remains unanswered. And the question of whether I can help her connect to that is even more unclear to me.

***

Later in the evening, our group conversation turned interesting when we shared stories about where in our lives we have experienced good Samaritan moments, giving or receiving love (keep in mind that the Samaritan story have heavy cross-racial undertones). It struck me that none of our black friends could at first tell of whites being good Samaritans to them. Instead, the stories that eventually emerged had a hint of charity-case sentiment, with some disapproving post-scripts. The seeds of "black consciousness" are alive, with many blacks being seemingly unable to receive from whites. They don't want white charity. They reject self-appointed white messiahs. And from what I keep on hearing, my guess is that the suspicion and mistrust will mark even heartfelt attempts. There are reasons for this. I'm learning how the over-exposure to guilt-driven tokenism and years of self-promotional exploitations have demonstrated that white is not so nice.

Although I therefore mean not to criticise, I am still confused. I don't know how to give, and make a contribution. I don't know how to be a good Samaritan to a black person. And I don't know if saying "nice" to a black toddler will hit home. In the mean-time, I'm starting to realise that I first need to kneel to my own need to receive from black Samaritans. Perhaps, in time I will understand that, in the sports metaphor, there is nothing to "hit home".