Yesterday afternoon Niko went to a friend's house, so Gus and I went to see Jack the Giant Slayer. On the way to the theater, Gus pontificated on his preferences for movie houses with steep seating, affording one the ability to see over the head of whoever is plopped down ahead of you. I told him that when I was growing up the theaters lacked that extreme slant, but they sported balconies.
For some reason, I added that during segregation African Americans were required to sit in the balconies and weren't allowed to sit in the main theater. I shared how my mother had had an African American girlfriend growing up with whom she went to the movies on Saturday afternoons, and how for years she thought the girl simply preferred the balcony because there was no other plausible reason that someone would one sit way up there.
Gus was baffled. So I decided to make it a teaching moment, and told him a bit more about segregation: separate (and unequal) schools, different restrooms, white-only benches, seating and drinking fountains. I didn't comment, didn't provide him any slant, just stated the facts.
The more I told him, the angrier he became. By the time we pulled into the parking garage, he was outraged at the injustice of segregation. His blood boiled. Mine was filled with pride.
God, I love that kid.
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