For many families, the summer months are revered as the most special of the year. Filled with days of leisure, vacation and adventure, the magic of summer has school-aged kids counting down the days until it arrives. The sun shines bright, the days are long and the pavement beckons for exploration.

As a child, I remember inhaling the fullness of summer freedom — staying up until the wee hours of the morning, waking up after lunch and riding my bike down to the shores of Southern California beaches to meet up with friends. Wearing shorts and a bikini top, and unfortunately not an ounce of sun block, it would take a week’s worth of summer vacation before my Cuban skin turned many shades darker. After the whole year without it, I began to hear the word prieta used within my family.

Honestly, I never even considered the word an insult. All my friends were white Americans — as the only Latina, I was by far among the darkest — and they all seemed to work hard for the tan that my olive skin achieved without effort. “You have the most beautiful skin color,” they would say. “You’re so lucky! You tan so easily!” I had never been hurt by my school-aged girlfriends. In fact, during those summer months, it was my primary goal to get as dark as I humanly could. Everyone looks better with a tan!

It wasn’t until I married my African American husband, had his children, and met other families like mine, that I became aware that basking in the sun of summer months was ingrained with a fear of becoming prieto. Only recently have I understood the insult behind the word, pegged squarely on what happens if you embark on too many sun-filled adventures. Dare I allow my children to sink their toes in the sands of beaches, swim all day at the hotel’s pool or ride their bikes outside while the sun sits strong against their brown faces? The risk of becoming prieto is almost certain for my biracial and bicultural kids. And regardless of who it comes from, I refute any claim that keeps my children hidden from the joys of sunshine.

Latinos come in all shades, but we still revere the most light as beautiful. Why is that? Phrases like mejorando la raza bring question to the pride I have in my heritage and make me worried for the challenges my children will face as dark-skinned, bicultural Latinos. The summer months are meant to build family legacy — traditions and bonds, alike. I’m not afraid, nor ashamed, of our darkening, brown skin. But still, I wonder, do you believe there is insult in being called prieto?

I am Chilean of German grandparents and my son, whom I have spoken only Spanish to since birth, and is now nearly 4 years old, is half Chileno, half American, has blonde hair and blue eyes which by the public’s misconceptions means he shouldn’t know more than one language — much less Spanish. He has been the topic of many conversations while waiting in line at the store and I have had more than my share of confused looks and odd questions.

“Excuse me, I was just wondering what language you are speaking to your son?” asked a women in line at the UPS store one day. I smiled and said “Spanish.” She looked down at Matías, then back at me and said. “Really? I would have never have guessed. I thought maybe French. I mean, it didn’t sound like Spanish. It is a dialect or something?”

“No” I replied, “just regular Spanish.”

“Wow! I would have never guessed.”

Although I didn’t continue the conversation with her I thought, well why not? Because he doesn’t look like what your perception of a Hispanic is? And of course the opposite is true too. I have a Chilean friend married to an Argentinian both of whom understand Spanish, but are not fluent and they do not speak to their children in the language. You could say they “look” Hispanic. He is of a darker complexion and their children both have dark hair, brown eyes and darker skin. When they are out, people automatically think they know Spanish by asking them what certain words are and have other Spanish speakers address them first in Spanish. She usually has to steer the conversation back to English, but nonetheless she feels uncomfortable because people assume, based on their looks, that they must speak the language.

I can pretty much guarantee that if my son had darker features there wouldn’t be so many questions, in fact it would be taken as a given that we speak Spanish (as it happens with my friend). I remember I once read an article from a Nicaraguan woman who wrote about her “blonde-haired, blue-eyed bilingual son” and her similar experiences and ridiculous questions from strangers. In her case, many assumed she was the nanny because of her darker looks and that the child she was speaking to couldn’t possibly be hers. I wish I had that article now to reference, but I read it long before my son was born.

Now Matías is attending preschool and his teacher and the social worker nearly jumped out of their chairs when they heard him speak Spanish back to me one day, “Oh, I didn’t know he actually SPOKE Spanish,” said his teacher. “I just thought, you know, that you spoke to him every once in a while. I wouldn’t know because his English is perfect.”

I smiled, looked down at my boy and said, “Yes, he speaks Spanish. And very, very well.”

It was just another pivotal moment in my quest to raise my son bilingual — no matter if he “looks” the part or not.

{photo courtesy of María José Ovalle}

My 7-year-old daughter sat at the base of the slide, letting the other kids run by, and watching as they laughed and played. Some older boys got a little too close and she asked them to be careful with their ball: “Please- you’ll scare her…. she’s protecting her babies.” Vivi took her self-appointed position of bodyguard seriously; she wasn’t going to let anyone near the mother duck, who had unfortunately chosen the base of the stairs to lay her eggs. While Vivi participates in the normal sibling and friend squabbles, one of my favorite qualities is her authentic empathy towards others.

I recently read an interesting article from UC Berkley that asked the question “Can empathy reduce racism?” The author discussed a recent study that suggests that the ability to put ourselves in another’s shoes allows us to reduce unconscious biases, and actually enhances the interactions we have with people who look different from us. We are living in an interconnected world, where our children will work and interact with people from a multitude of cultures. If parents want to raise children who are accepting of all ethnicities — and if empathy helps to eliminate racism — how can families teach this compassion to their children as they grow up?

Empathy is the awareness that another person (or any living thing) is suffering. Empathetic children understand the feelings of others and wish to relieve their pain and better their experience. It’s not just that we feel sorry for someone; it’s moving beyond sadness or pity, and aspiring to change it. One way that kids learn empathy is when they learn about other cultures and differing perspectives. Being able to truly understand another person’s point of view shows us that we all have similarities on some level.

How else can parents teach or model empathy? Despite being inherently compassionate, children benefit from witnessing kindness towards others, respect for other cultures and races, and examples of how to stand up for what’s right in the face of discrimination. By modeling compassion and empathy towards our partners, children, friends, and even strangers, we demonstrate how to put feelings into action that helps the person suffering and alleviates their situation. Our children observe how we react empathetically when we assist someone who just dropped their groceries, return a phone left behind, stop a joke based on stereotypes, bring dinner to a new mom, or stick up for kids who are getting picked on.

Another wonderful way to teach kindness by example is by volunteering together as a familia. On a trip to Acapulco, we spent a day at a local children’s home to play with the kids, set up a basketball hoop and help them make Christmas cards. On every visit to Mexico we involve our kids in packing donations for orphanages and schools: what toys would the toddlers enjoy? What school supplies do the kindergarteners need? We try to teach our kids to put themselves in the shoes of others and relate to them as peers.

This year, we visited a couple of local foster homes for refugee children who are unaccompanied minors. Before arriving, I prepared my kids. Their eyes grew serious as I explained that we would be making a craft and sharing a snack with kids who are here without their families. They vowed to help the kids have a fun afternoon — not because they would be rewarded or punished, but because they understood that this was the generous and kind thing to do. Although shy at first, everyone warmed up quickly. Ricky’s silly antics elicited laughter, Vivi’s genuine compliments about the girls’ hairstyles drew shy smiles, Maya respectfully listened to the kids talk, and Tonito and his new friend from the DR Congo found common ground in their interest in cars.

We left the group home feeling inspired and a bit euphoric. As we’ve volunteered more, I’ve seen my children’s empathy begin to develop. They now initiate random acts of kindness, and are a bit more tolerant on the playground and with each other. One day last spring my son came running home from school: “There’s a new boy at school, and he doesn’t know anybody! We have to invite him over so that he can meet some friends!” Though we can’t measure empathy in standardized tests, experiences like these tell us we’re on the right path.

{Photos courtesy of Becky Morales}