Hate Learned Early

 

Hate Learned Early

The late afternoon air still smelled like warm concrete and sunscreen. Skateboard wheels whispered across the pavement. Someone laughed — the easy, careless laughter of kids who still believe public spaces are neutral.

Then the bikes started circling.

Three younger boys rode past again and again. At first it was noise. Then it became words. And then it became a slur — sharp, deliberate, unmistakable — thrown across the park like a stone. The N-word. Not once. Not by accident. Repeated. A message, not a mistake.

My fifteen-year-old daughter stood up.

One of them hit her hard enough to split her lip.

Before the statistics, there was her face.

Before the studies, there was her blood.

Her friend stepped between them. They walked away. Most of the older kids left too — but not all of the danger did. The boys returned. This time, adults came with them. And then a man pulled up in a truck and waved a gun.

Police were called. An investigation is ongoing. But what happened did not end when the sirens faded.

Because this wasn’t just a fight.

This was a lesson being rehearsed.

This Is Not Rare — It Is Normalized

The Centers for Disease Control only recently began formally tracking racism experienced by teens — because the pattern could no longer be ignored.

In the most recent national Youth Risk Behavior Survey:

• 31.5% of high school students reported they have experienced racism in school.
• For Black students, the number rises to 45.9%.
• For multiracial students, 48.8%.

When hate crimes are officially reported nationwide, race and ethnicity are the most common bias category, and anti-Black bias makes up the largest share of race-based incidents.

Texas law enforcement data reflects the same reality: race-based hate crimes dominate reports, and anti-Black bias remains the single largest category.

The volume may look smaller in rural areas — but the impact is not.

Silence is thinner in small towns. Escalation is faster.

What Racial Violence Does to a Teen’s Nervous System

Racial harassment does not land only in the ears.

It lands in the body.

It tightens the chest.

It sharpens the eyes.

It redraws the safety map of the world.

A park stops being neutral.

Strangers stop being background.

Laughter becomes something to monitor.

The nervous system learns quickly: You are not automatically safe here.

These are not emotional bruises.

They are survival rewrites.

“They’re Just Kids” Is How Harm Gets Inherited

When people say, “They’re just kids — they don’t really mean it,” what they are really saying is:

That harm is small enough to ignore.

That impact matters less than comfort.

That accountability can wait.

But children do not invent hatred.

They rehearse what they are taught.

And what is not corrected becomes permission.

Accountability Is Not Cruelty

Accountability is not about punishment — it is about interruption.

It looks like adults refusing to minimize slurs.

It looks like consequences for assault, regardless of age.

It looks like community leaders choosing repair over denial.

It looks like teaching children that dignity is not conditional.

Because when adults stay silent, children learn that silence is agreement.

A Vow

We will not teach our children that dignity is negotiable.

We will not teach them that silence is peace.

We will not teach them to shrink so others can stay comfortable.

We will tell the truth.

We will interrupt harm.

We will protect childhood — for every child.