We All Need to Be Like Kenny

Laughter echoed through the room. The noise swelled as families streamed in and added their voices to the cacophony. Toddlers wriggled out of arms to peek at each other around their parents’ legs. Older kids began a stealth-tag game.

I wasn’t sure if my recent sixth birthday qualified me to play with the big kids, so I watched as they scooted around the room. They tapped shoulders, whispering, “you’re it,” and darting furtive glances at adults too deep in conversation to notice.

A door swung open, and Kenny Strayhorn stepped through with his signature grin.

A little boy ran toward him.

“Hey. How come you’re dark brown?”

Everyone froze. Instant silence. And the kid’s mom was red. Fire engine hue.

I sensed discomfort, but didn’t understand the tension. Kenny did. Forty years ago, Southern Virginia was less than progressive.

But Kenny’s smile never wavered. The former East Carolina running back went down on one knee, giving the boy his full attention.

“Well, we all have something called melanin in our skin. Melanin determines how dark or light your skin will be. Some people have more, and some people have less.”

He held the back of his hand next to the boy’s. “I have more than you do, but, look. Flip your hand over.” He turned his own big hand palm up and let the boy compare. “What do you see?”

The boy studied their palms, then looked up at Kenny. “We look pretty much the same on this side.”

Kenny nodded. “And on the inside, too, we’re ‘pretty much the same.’ The only difference on the outside is a little less—or a little more—melanin.”

Almost forty years later, childhood memories fray around the edges, but an image of that giant man comparing palms with a little blond boy remains crystal-sharp. I have no idea how big Kenny really was, but he loomed large in that moment, and still seems immense in memory.

Kenny spoke with grace, kindness, an understanding that the child didn’t intend harm, and a willingness to educate—not only the child, but also the other children and adults in the room.

Their conversation lasted less than a minute, but those moments shaped my worldview for life.

Because of one conversation, I’ve never considered judging a person based on a difference in melanin, and I’ve never understood anyone who does. Because of Kenny. 

God says to teach our children diligently “when you sit, when you walk, when you lie down and when you rise.” Deuteronomy 6:4-7

We need to give our kids ongoing education. Continual conversation. Every day. No matter what we’re doing.

In Mark 12:28-34, a church leader approached Jesus and asked Him, “Which commandment is the most important?”

Jesus quoted Deuteronomy 6:4-5. “Here’s your top priority: ‘The Lord our God is God alone. Love the Lord Your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.’” But He didn’t stop there. “Want to prove you love God? Great. Here’s your second priority: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”  (Becky’s No-Nonsense Paraphrased Version)

As yourself.

How do we love ourselves?

Would we let ourselves go hungry?

Would we allow someone to harm us without ever lifting a finger to protect ourselves?

Would we remain silent if we were mistreated based on an arbitrary physical feature?

Would we accept a system that gives automatic benefits to some (but not us)?

Would we shrug and say, “it’s just the way things are,” as family members and friends are murdered?

Would we ignore being on the receiving end one of the deadliest race massacres in history?

Nope.

Our mandate: love God, love others the way we love ourselves, and teach it to our children.

Even if we’re not parents, we’re not off the hook. If we have kids in our lives, it’s our responsibility (as aunts, uncles, grandparents, leaders, friends) to guide and teach them how to have positive relationships with God and other humans.

If we don’t educate them, who will? The media? The Internet? Minecraft?

We need to make an intentional effort.

The next generation needs to see us loving others. Really loving.

If we call ourselves Christians, our lives should be moving, breathing illustrations of God’s great love for every person.

About a month ago, I realized I’d never thanked Kenny for his unforgettable example.

I searched online for his contact information. Instead, I found his obituary.

My vision blurred as I read the words of other individuals Kenny touched. With his own life, he made a difference. He didn’t just talk. He lived the conversation.

Like Kenny, we can make positive impact, but it won’t happen by accident. We can’t change everyone, but like Kenny, we can influence one person at a time.

Let’s commit to convincing our children discrimination is wrong. Let’s decide now to be an example of God’s love.

Let’s DO something. Speak with grace. Listen. Be a friend. Vote like Jesus would. Link arms. Speak up. Be willing to teach, and willing to learn. Stand for truth. Live in love.

And Kenny was amazing, but please don’t misunderstand. White friends, our BIPOC friends do not bear the responsibility of explaining race to our children.

We all need to be like Kenny.

Let’s ask God to help us find someone who needs to hear these words (and then, let’s say them):

I will be your friend. You are never alone. Not ever.