I’ve always considered myself a fan of Tom Cruise. Sometimes he’s been a little to eager to be liked for my taste but I’ve stayed a fan. Maybe my annoyance with his eagerness comes from my own cynicism. I’m truly one of those cynics who wants to slap the girl behind the counter at Starbuck’s who’s just a little too chipper for 8:30am. The one who wants to kick the chair out from under the co-worker who rolls over to the opening of your cube and, with a little too much energy asks, “how was your weekend, did you have fun, what did you do?”
Okay, back to the point. Tom Cruise. I was recently watching Oprah and Tom Cruise was a guest. Oprah brought up the fact that he had a bi-racial son by asking if he’d had a conversation with him about race since it’s obvious he’s of another race. Tom’s response? “What do you mean, another race? My son is from the human race. He’s my son and I love him!” He then tells Oprah there was no need for discussion about it and it had never been talked about in his home. That all his son needs to know is that he’s loved and we’re all here to work it out together. I was shocked when Oprah chose not to dig deeper. It was obvious she wasn’t going to lose that friendship by asking anymore questions and offend him. So she doesn’t dig deeper, although she had to be thinking this man was crazy. Instead she starts talking about Steven Spielberg and his adopted, African-American daughter and how ‘pretty her hair is because it’s so big and full and that Kate had to learn how to braid’. Oh lord.
I wanted to throw up. Of course because of Tom’s altruistic, but unrealistic response, but also because Oprah was too busy enraptured with Tom to be an interviewer and get him to answer honestly. It goes back to his wanting to be liked so much he said what he thought he should respond with instead of what was real. His response is an irresponsible way to think in today’s world. And because Oprah let the discussion drop, she gave up on an opportunity to educate him (and the world) and have a very compelling conversation.
Tom Cruise is living in a bubble and that’s scary for his son. His refusal to talk about race is doing a disservice to his son. His son obviously knows he’s adopted, so why not talk to him about where he came from and teach him to not only be proud of the cultures that brought him to this earth, but also the cultures of his existing family. Why can’t he learn that his hair is the way it is because part of him is from Africa and that’s the texture of that culture. That part of him is a descendent of kings and queens who ruled tribes, and still do, for hundreds of years? If the other part of him is, let’s guess, Swedish, then why not tell him about that culture?
My boyfriend found out at a late age in life that he’s part Native American. Did that somehow turn him away from the non-Native American person in his family? No. It just showed him there was another facet to who he was and he was eager to learn more and be proud of that side of himself as well.
How is Tom going to deal when his son comes home and tells him someone called him the ‘N’ word? He’s going to hear it, it doesn’t matter how high up on the financial food chain he is. He still looks African-American and will be treated as such when he’s not under his dad’s arm. Keeping his son in the dark about those issues will only be a bigger shock to his system when someone treats him like he’s different or doesn’t belong because of his color.
It’s wonderful to want things to be equal and for everyone to ‘be in it together’ but that’s not the case and I don’t see anyone stepping up and taking Martin or Malcolm’s place to make sure it does (Jesse doesn’t count. He had his chance after Martin was shot and he sold out). People think because Oprah has been on TV for the past 20 years and almost every show now has a token black on cast, that racism is dead. It’s not.
I’m 35 years old and I live in the real world and unless his son decides to live in his dad’s bubble of celebrity for the rest of his life, he’s going to live in the real world too.
It’s not about preparing him to distrust people, to be cynical. It’s to let him know there are people out there who may judge him for being the shade he is. That some people are ignorant and make decisions about other’s character based on the color of their skin. That he shouldn’t second guess everyone who treats him rudely, but know that those who are blatant in their prejudice; know it has nothing to do with him. There’s nothing wrong with him, it’s the other person’s problem. But if you never have that conversation, how can you possibly know he’ll handle that inevitable situation in a healthy and strong way?
It doesn’t matter how much confidence, strength and love you give a child, when they hear that word, or words similar, it’s a shock to the system and is devastating. I know. I am 100% African American and in third grade, at a school that was 90% white, I was called the ‘N’ word. I knew what it meant without being told and from then on my world was changed. I felt embarrassed, dirty, and different from everyone and I just wanted to go hide. I felt everyone was looking at me with the disgust this one little kid had when he called me that horrible name. Would I have been stronger had I been talked to about the potential beforehand? I’m not sure but I wish I’d been given that option. I wouldn’t have felt ashamed because I would have known it had nothing to do with me. That I was okay, it was he who was the ignorant piece of crap who deserved the look of disgust and indifference.
I went home and told my mom what happened and will never forget the look of pain on her face. I think my parents had hoped it wouldn’t happen to me so young. Therefore, we’d never been any discussions about our being black and others possibly not liking us for it. It has to be painful to have your child come home and tell you they’ve been called any derogatory name. We lived in a predominately white area and when I look back I always felt my parents moved there to an all-white area to let us know we could live anywhere, do anything and be anything we wanted. That others couldn’t dictate our worth and direction in life. To be open to everyone and everything.
Anywho, when I told my mom, she sat me down right then and there to share with me the history of our race and rebuilt my confidence and that sense of pride back into my heart. She told me it was the other people who were ignorant and intolerant, that I was still the daughter she loved and the little girl my true friends cared about. I’d done nothing wrong. She shared with me the stories of her youth in dealing with prejudice and also shared stories of strength of the African American race and how they overcame such diversity and it was up to every generation to hold our heads proudly no matter how many names or stones that were thrown our way.
That day I learned the phrase, Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. It has stayed with me and I’ve had to repeat it in my head several times since that day to keep me from ripping out some ignorant punk’s throat.
I’ve digressed, back to Tom and his son. Have the discussion. Fill him with pride about the history of all the cultures in his family, including his biological one. Knowing won’t make him turn his back on Tom. He’ll probably love him more for it.
