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My Son Is the Only Brown Toddler in His Daycare
I just want the best for him — but I fear he’ll be othered
Drop-off at my son’s daycare follows a familiar script: We leave home in my quickly aging Kia with its speakers throbbing, as I match the lyrical flows of the ’90s rappers who raised me. Upon approaching the nursery, I slowly reduce the volume and compose myself before parking alongside Audis and Teslas owned by consultants, marketers, lawyers, and the like. Before stepping out of the car, I silently remind myself that my family deserves to experience the same privileges that they do — even if we’ve shaved our budget bare-bones to afford the cost of preschool enrollment.
My Tejano and country music-loving family is Brown to the core — much different than the predominantly White and well-off parents chauffeuring my son’s fellow students. Me? I’m a Latino teacher and marathon runner. Nearly three years ago, nudged by the surprising and exciting news that we were expecting a child, I moved 2,000 miles across the country with my immediate family, from a college town in Texas to the beautiful and adventure-packed city of Seattle. This first-generation college graduate from the barrio has always had plans to move on up.
When I was a child, my mother instilled in me the importance of going to any length to secure what your…
