by Kat Apf

Created on: May 22, 2009   Last Updated: September 08, 2011

When I was growing up, my parents taught us all people were the same. It didn't matter what religion they practiced or what color their skin was. We were told if you cut someone, they bleed. That was my father's way of telling us not to worry about things like that. He firmly believed people were people.

My father was also famous, in our family, for saying, an idiot comes in all shapes and colors. Okay, I amended that. He didn't say idiot but the word he did use wouldn't be appropriate.

I was raised to be a tolerant, open human before it was a trend. This was fairly easy, I'll admit since everyone on our neighborhood more or less looked the same. Sure, some people celebrated Hanukkah, some celebrated Christmas and some celebrated both. But for the most part, we were all same.

When I was about fourteen years old, two African-American families moved into our neighborhood, roughly at the same time. The one set of kids were way too goody-goody for us. All they wanted to do was practice their violins and play chess. My best friend and I found them to be an utter bore.

The other family had a son around our age. We met him and thoroughly enjoyed his crazy sense of humor and the stories he told. He was a unique, funny  guy and we loved hanging out with him. And then, suddenly, my dad was saying, "I don't want you hanging around with that kid."

I remember being furious. In our family, one did not question my father. What he wanted went. Period. You did not ever call him on anything. But this time, I was livid. I could not contain myself. I, without thinking, called him out on the subject.

I was standing at the top of the stairs and he was at the bottom. I remember thinking, "Good, I can run to my room and lock the door when he comes up after me."

"Dad, this is totally unfair. You don't even know Jeff."

"I know I don't want you hanging around with him."

"But why? He's a nice guy."

"That well may be. But you aren't going to hang around with him."

"Tell me why!"

I could see my father's blood pressure rising, as the red in his face flared.

"Go on! Say it! Why can't I hang around with Jeff?" I shouted. I remember feeling a little sick. I had never, ever questioned him until that moment.

"It doesn't look right."

"That's just stupid!"

I could tell he was getting as angry as I already was.

"You may not hang around with him because he's Black and it wouldn't look right. Are you happy? I said it."

My blood was pounding so hard I couldn't hear myself but I knew what I was

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