What mesmerizes me about the ocean is that it never stops. You cannot measure time by something eternal. The ocean dances to the metronome of the moon in a paradox of grace and rage. As we squished sand between our toes on our weekend beach getaway, I was once again moved by the sheer power of the ocean. I saw in it beauty and peace and calm, forgetting the terror the seas wreaked on Japan just days ago. Being at the beach transports me in ways nothing else can. I dream of a house with an ocean view to inspire my writing and tame my beasts. Beasts being the inner ones I camouflage with self deprecating humor, not the Dirt & Noise beats I birthed.
To see little boys romp on the beach holds a joy that surpasses all else. They are numb to the frigid water, playing games of cat and mouse with the waves. Their wet pants, rolled up but now heavy with sand in the folds, stick to their goose pimpled calves as they chase a frisbee and load up buckets to fill the dragon castle moat. Deal brings along a waterproof pouch of accessories for the intricate castle we build, replete with moat, carriage way, and deep dungeon. On this trip he has brought along a red rubber dragon finger puppet, a royal blue motorcycle, a matching blue jeep, and a green and gold boat he swiped from the bath tub. He adds a shell door to the castle, and I make a flag for the tower out of a stick and dried leaf. Bird gleefully tosses a football or tries his hand at getting a kite to soar higher than the 10-story hotel that is our home for two nights. On other occasions we channel the Beatles and create an octopus’ garden. Bird and Deal run along the shore collecting bits of seaweed, feathers, shells, rocks, and longs strands of grass, careful not to touch anything glistening with the sting of a jellyfish’s carcass.
On our latest weekend jaunt, while Mac Daddy and I braved the wind and sipped hot coffee, we smiled as the boys ran in concentric circles along the shore, arms flailing and stretched out as if they were on the verge of taking flight. They were giddy in the sea air and taking full advantage of having the beach to themselves. We smiled, trying to tattoo this childhood innocence into our brains. Bird and Deal stopped abruptly, both enchanted by something at their feet. It’s rare to see them both halted at the same time, not nudging and cajoling each other to play tag or to wrestle. Mac Daddy and I watched as they looked intently at the sand. And as if reading in rounds, we hear Bird read what was scratched in large swaths on the sand, with Deal sounding out his letters just behind his big brother. N..I…G… They read the word aloud and looked up at us confused. We hightailed it over and kicked the sandy letters away in a fury, our hearts in our throats, our breath quickening on pace with our blood pressure.
N-I-G-G-E-R
Imagine the sickness we felt hearing our sons read aloud that word. Of all things someone felt compelled to spell out in the sand, some sick bigot chose the N-word. Yes, it’s just a word. A word heavy with meaning and hate. A word that we as people give meaning to. It might be “just a word,” but when you hear little boys say it aloud, it is so much more. Staring intently into Bird and Deal’s eyes with a gravity they have never sensed, we explained how hurtful and damaging and mean that word is and we vehemently told them to never ever ever speak its syllables again and we possibly went too far telling them that they would get expelled from school if they said it and that no one would let them come to their house to play if they ever spoke that word again but we were in a rage and feeling so sick and saddened by this turn of events that we didn’t know what to say to our sons who were suddenly sullied by the hate and disgrace that poisons our world.
What kind of person does this? Was it the couple sitting hand in hand in beach chairs by the lifeguard stand just moments before we plodded onto the beach? Was it the three tweens who were clad in swimsuits and splashing in the waves as if it were 85 degrees outside? What about the man walking his two jack russells in matching pink harnesses? Who? Who wrote this? Who has such hate in his heart to desecrate the beach, a place where magic is personified?
And so in an instant, beauty became blasphemy.
It’s not just a word. It’s hurtful and mean and I am so, so sorry your children were exposed to that. So, so sorry.
I think perhaps you may have overreacted (outwardly, I mean). For your kids, it is just a word. I think that explaining that it’s a hurtful word that you don’t want them to use is appropriate, but unless you’re ready to explain the context, that should be enough. The word only has the power we give it and I think that by teaching our kids that it’s something to be feared, we perpetuate that power. I have had that word hurled at me in hate, disgust and an attempt to hurt. I choose to not give it power. To me, it is the symbol of someone else’s ignorance, fear, and hurt. I believe we have to teach our kids to avoid using it, not by employing fear, but by teaching tolerance (which I suspect you already do!). I don’t think your kids were sullied. I think they were enlightened. You can’t teach the good without stumbling upon the bad…