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I was 5 years old the first time I encountered bigotry and prejudice. I had come home from kindergarten excited to announce that I had a boyfriend. But when I told my family his name, my father lost it. “You can’t have a Mexican boyfriend!” he demanded.

I cowered behind the recliner, confused. I kept saying, “But he’s white!” At that tender age, I didn’t see color. And I didn’t understand that the boy’s name was all my dad needed to know. Perez. Joe Perez. I couldn’t understand why he was bad. Bigotry.

Years later, my oldest son and I went to The King Center in Atlanta. We were horrified by the images of lynchings of African American people. And even more shocked to see that most of them happened in our state of Oklahoma. I remember being the only white people at the Center and getting some looks that made us aware we were the minority. I can’t say that I understand what it means to be a minority–the years of being looked at with suspicion and even disdain. And what that does to one’s spirit. But if prejudice is a lake, we took a sip of what it might be like that day.

I will never understand how one set of people can hate another set simply because of the color of their skin. How one group can think they’re superior based on their race. It sickens and horrifies me. And generations of being looked at differently, treated with disdain, can become a filter that doesn’t go away easily.

That’s why I love that we honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And I hope that someday his dream will come true. That all races of little children can live together in harmony.

One of my proudest moments as a mother was when my daughter came home and told me she’d been asked to the homecoming dance at her Christian school. I asked her what the boy’s name was and what he looked like. She described him and said that he had little curls among other descriptions; she didn’t even think to mention that he was black. That to me was precious–and evidence that perhaps I haven’t passed on a legacy of bigotry to my children.

Perhaps we can all be part of Dr. King’s dream in big and little ways. That would be an answer to prayer.