When she was about thirteen years old, Condoleezza Rice came home heartbroken because a classmate had gotten up and moved seats, refusing to be seated next to a black girl. You might have expected her parents to comfort her, to tell her that America still had a long way to go, and to assure her that she was just as good as everyone else. Indeed, they may have done those things, but her father also chose in that moment to give his daughter some pretty counterintuitive advice: “It’s okay that some close- minded person doesn’t want to sit next to you, as long as they are the one that moves.”
Instead of making his daughter feel like a victim, he empowered her. He gave her a great gift in that moment—it was a gift of dignity and strength. Yes, he was telling her she couldn’t control what other thoughtless or mean people did. She could, however, decide not to let it affect her, not to let it change how she lived her life or how she went about her own school day. If some racist kid (with racist parents, obviously) wanted to change where they sat, that was their choice. But she didn’t have to bend or be changed by it. She didn’t have to let it get to her.
They can move. She didn’t have to do a thing. That was her power. Your kids should know they have that power too.