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Family Of Many Races


            
             Growing up I did not experience racism. I played with children of all different kinds of backgrounds and never thought twice about it. Race was never a factor with whom I played with; class was neither. Being dark skinned or having green eyes did not have an effect on how fun someone was to play with. I did not mind if someone lived in a big house or if they lived in a small apartment; it was all about fun. Pre-k through second grade this was firmly the truth, but around third grade I began to feel differently about people. At this grade I began to play more sports, and I disliked playing with kids not as good as me. Team sports like football, baseball, and basketball became more competitive and serious natured. Selecting who was on your team was never easy, but it was something that had to be done. A tendency began to occur that was very obvious: the same kids were chosen, and therefore the kids that did not get selected were divided from the others. .
             This is the precise moment when lines were drawn and you were on one side or the other. Either you were good enough or you were not. Race or money could not help you play better and so they were nonexistent in our minds. All that mattered was how fast you ran or how good you could catch or how well you shot the ball. You suddenly found yourself to be cool or un-cool and for some that was the beginning of who you were for the rest of your adolescent years. Several tried to stay friends with the "other side", but rarely did it work; it was if there was a smoke screen between the athletic and non-athletic, and what your parents did for a living could not clear the dark cloud.
             In my final years of elementary I played for a little league football team. Here I met new friends that did not attend the same school as me. They came from several different sides of town and there was a diverse mixture of people on the team. We were not the best team, but one of the better ones.


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