I was raised in California, in a liberal community. I had a hippie mother who embraced the cultural ideals of love that were so prevalent in the 1970's. I was taught from a young age that love is love, regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, religion, etc. I knew no different.

I was a shy child. Yes, I know that is hard to believe if you met me today. I was taught to make eye contact, to not hide behind my mothers skirts, to have manners and treat everyone with respect.

I would spend my summers in Atlanta, Georgia visiting family.

I was about 8 or 9 (I think) and I was with my family in Downtown. There was a man on the corner playing music, a saxophone I believe. He was an older black man with big brown eyes. His music made me want to dance.

I looked up at him and smiled, making eye contact. 

As we continued to walk, I got scolded. I was told not to make eye contact and smile at him, that he is not someone that I should be smiling at. I asked why and got no response.

I could not understand why the lessons I was taught by my mother would not hold true in this moment. I did what I was taught, which  was to make eye contact and smile. However, instead of receiving praise and accolades for my good behavior, I was reprimanded.

At the end of the summer I flew home to California. That incident had stuck with me and I asked my Mom what I did wrong. 

I did not know the story of the Civil War. I had no clue that our country was built on the backs of slaves and that racism was very much alive and well in this home of the free. I was too young to understand or see color.  I saw only humanity. 

My Mom asked me if the man I smiled at was black and I didn't have the vocabulary to answer that question. As a child all I knew was that I did something wrong and I didn't know why. I didn't see that mans race, economic status, age or gender. I appreciated his music. The end.

I remembered this incident as an adult, a memory of my first experience being aware of racism. It stood out as there was a contradiction between the ideals I was being taught as a child. It stood out because it went again my foundation of love and humanity. It stood out because as I got older the moments came into focus. I saw the segregation more and more with each visit to the South. I started to see the divide back home in California. 

The question often arises as to whether or not racism is taught. In my opinion, the answer is 100% yes. It is taught by the actions, words, and thoughts of those around us. It is passed on from generation to generation. It is not always seen, felt or heard because often those learning are children and they only emulate those around them. 

I am glad as a child I was taught to question, but I also know that is not the norm. I am glad that as an adult I continue to question because it is only through all of us asking questions that we can start to rebuild from a history that is wrought with the blood of our forefathers.