I was recently tagged in a photo on Facebook. To my shock and delight, it was this photo of my sixth grade graduating class of Lusher Elementary. It was the year 1989 and all of our faces are aglow. We are gathered upon our favorite play equipment, joyfully gleaming in this captured moment, hopeful and fresh. You can find me if you must.
I came to a few realizations upon being reintroduced to this moment. One such emotion was joy. Joy that I was able to share this space, at this time, with these humans. It was an environment that fostered creativity, promoted curiosity and celebrated the eclectic nature of its inhabitants. We worked on an honor system, started each day with a song, and worked diligently through the week towards the reward of “Project Pride” for good behavior and workmanship. This snapshot is one of many environments of this kind that decorated my childhood in New Orleans. I realized in looking at this picture that I have never had a diversity problem. I have always been occupying spaces with people who do not look like me or share my beliefs. I have become a richer woman for it. These spaces instilled an ability to see beyond myself and my circumstances. It allowed me to build and store a lasting sense of empathy, an emotion that is seemingly fleeting among the young.
I am happy to still know most of the kids that I share this photo with. While we've lost a few, we boast artists, a poet, teachers, executives, law enforcement officers and a host of other vocations that create a lovely collective of the same gorgeous souls I once grew with. I want to thank every person that did see my color and wanted to know more. I want to thank every person who invited me into their Chanukah celebrations, bar and bat mitzvahs. I want to thank the families that expanded my palette to include Iranian stews and the knowledge that authentic lasagnas do not originate from a box called “Stouffer's.” Thank you to the grandmothers who carried a different native tongue than my own, but whose embrace felt just as warm, plush and familiar. Thank you to dear friends who tried in vain to teach the normally coordinated, tiny ballerina to double dutch (I still cannot jump in). Thank you to my classmates, who signaled my Baptist being with gentle nudges on sitting, standing and kneeling on cue in chapel. You all have shaped my world view in astounding and lasting ways. These are spaces that we all should seek. I promise you will grow in ways you've never imagined. My heart has grown in immeasurable terms.