This is to the cute, but unsocialized white baby that stared me down on the bus. Let me introduce myself since you so brazenly stared at me like a game of "one of these things is not like the others". I know, I know...you've never seen one of me before up close and your frown indicated you weren't sure what to make of me. Well, before your "entrenched in her whiteness, yet obviously embarrassed" mom tells you a bunch of half truths and straight-up lies about me because she doesn't actually know any people of color, I'll enlighten you. I'm brown, the color of the crayon you're gonna use a whole, whole lot (I did). Some folks call me black (another crayon I absolutely love) and I'm okay with that distinction. When I get upset, I get loud too. I eat, sleep, play and poop just like you. And yes, to your discernible surprise, I can smile. At least if you don't learn to do anything when confronted with another human anomaly, learn to smile. It will soften your clearly unbiased scrutiny.
And to your mom: Lord, help us. Really? In 2019? Black folks do not liked being gaped at by your baby like a circus animal. Get your baby some diversity books (hell, I heard a white mom reading a children's book about global warming to her toddler, so I know those exist). And more importantly, get to know some brown-skinned people, lazy-ass, so you never have to feel that ridiculous, helpless embarrassment again. I know it sucks to be reminded how pointedly racially isolated you are, but your baby's a gurgling billboard of your social conscience.