When our son Aiden was young, we decided to leave Eugene, Oregon, where I had lived for 10 years. We agreed that whoever found a job first would be the winner; my husband won, and we landed in Sheridan, Wyoming.
It was really a leap of faith for us – and my family, which is an eclectic mix of hippies and ranchers, was concerned about our moving to that part of the country, which they thought might have more restrictive and conservative views than what we were used to. My step mom was particularly worried, perhaps because she was afraid that we were going to adopt those perceived views as our own.
One day, after we had moved, Aiden came home from school and asked: “Where are all the brown people?” That was his six-year-old mind working, seeing the lack of diversity and just sensing that something was different. He wasn’t uncomfortable with it; he was just being observant. Up until that point, he had been surrounded by all sorts of people. Our neighborhood in Eugene was Latino and Asian, so he was the minority in his classroom. He didn’t know anything else; it was what he grew up with. And it was eye opening for him when he wasn’t surrounded by all sorts of people.
