Bees in My Bonnet

If I had seen an article 20 years ago with ‘race’ or ‘racism’ in the title, I might have yawned and flipped past it.   I had the luxury to do so – if anything caught my eye with these words, internally I would wonder what the big deal was.   I’m thankful this is no longer the case.   These themes have popped up all over – not merely in print media or news outlets, but in tragic circumstances, and in grocery stores and tales are told of interactions with strangers in public.   That being the case, I have begun to pay closer attention – and it started just a few decades ago with conversations with my sister. We had grown up together – fast friends and playmates – and I had, from the moment of my birth understood her to be the truest sister – even though her skin and appearance told me from the beginning that she was Chinese and I was a freckled red-head.   I don’t remember ever thinking of her as different, even though it was plainly obvious.   In ...