Last night, my daughter, Amber brought me an application form to join Girl Scouts.
I brushed her off, as I was heading to the barn to start chores, but she begged me just to fill in two small sections of the form.
Grabbing a pen, I agreed.One section asked for "Racial Background" and the other; "Ethnic Background."
I circled the words "White", and "Not Hispanic."
Amber picked up the form with a puzzled look on her face.
"White?" she asked.
"Yes, white. That's what you are," I replied.
She lifted her arm and studied it for a second. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked up and said, "I would say I'm more Peach, if you ask me."
I looked at her arm. "Yes, I guess you are."
She smiled, took the form and skipped out of the office. I don't think my seven-year-old daughter has ever considered her race before. Her father and I brought her up to be caring and kind to people. We don't make distinctions based on skin color so she's never heard us talk about "whites" or "blacks" - just people.
It occurred to me after she left, how innocent she is. To my little girl, skin color is just that; skin color. Nothing more. Nothing less.
God gave us an abundance of colors in this wonderful world, along with children who see people through His eyes, until they are corrupted by the opinions and prejudices of others.
All my life, I grew up thinking I was white, for whatever it meant.
Last night, I realized I'm peach. I like it. From now on, if anyone asks, that will be my answer.
What color are you?
