Dark In A Light World

I love these eyes. I love the way they are so expressive and they light up when I sing Itsy Bitsy Spider. I love how they follow me around the room with the question lingering in the air, "Um...Mom, where do you think you are going?" I love how lately they have been focused to the TV when Barney comes on, just like all the siblings before her did as toddlers. I love how they are trained to the back door at just the moment when Daddy will be home. I love how these eyes will close with the perfect combination of pacifiers (yes plural!), lovies, a white noise sheep, a blanket, books, a cd playing lullabies, and most recently a talking purple puppy.  

 Her crib is the party place, people!!

One day, all too soon though, these eyes will come home from school filled with tears. 

Because someone was mean. 

Because someone didn't want to sit by her at the lunch table. 

Because kids laughed or looked at her funny.

My eyes cried over all the same things. I wasn't thin enough. I wasn't popular enough. My jeans weren't expensive enough. But, I could have changed those things about me if I had wanted to or had the means to. The big difference between this little girl and me, is that some of this hurt that my precious daughter might encounter will be racially based.  

And she can't change that. 

Because she has dark brown skin. Because she has black curly hair in beads or barrettes that can't be brushed and braided at the sleepovers. Because laying out by the pool will not produce a tan. Because she doesn't fit our standard of beauty. And if you don't think that standard isn't white...then just do a little research on the racial make-up of Ms. America over the past 40 years. 

If you think she wouldn't be picked on simply for being black, because you know "times have a changed and all"...then you are wrong. And if you think only kids whose parents "taught" them racism are racist, than you are wrong. Take for example Isaac's kindergarten best friend whose mom later confessed to me that on the way to Meet the Teacher, her son had said "I sure hope there are no brown kids in my class". She of course was aghast at this because she had not said anything negative about black people (or so she thinks) so when she questioned him about it, he said: "well I have just never been around brown skinned people." Now he quickly got over this and he and Isaac became inseperable...but still, it was there on that day in this child's mind.

There is a documentary that has not released in theaters near us yet, called Dark Girls. 

I have been following their facebook page for a year now waiting for them to come to Dallas.

The documentary is about the racism that exists within America (and all cultures really) with the darkest of us being considered the least worthy. I can't wait to see it. I think it will be really eye opening as to what my baby girl will go through because her birthmother is dark and she will be dark too. And the implications of this are far reaching.

Then just today I stumbled upon a blog that I spent over an hour absorbing, written by an adult adoptee who is African American but was raised by a white family in a white suburb and went to a white only school. Her writing is powerfully strong, raw and real...just the way I like it. Her words and story made me really have to reflect on the fact that my kids will be adults one day with their own interpretations about what it meant to be raised as a black child in a white world. The blog author's name is Lisa Marie and she tours and tells her story all over the nation, even going to PACT camp in California which is a camp for Transracial adoptive families to come to once a year to allow their kids to experience their culture. Please go read her post titled "Things I wanted to say" as she reflects on her time with the adoptive parents at camp.This line struck me the most, "Be willing and committed to struggle with the notion of “white privilege” and understand that race and the idea of “being racialized” is not something that you or your kids ‘finally get’ and then everything is cool."

This struck me because I take pride in the fact that I do read, read, read as she suggests and I blog and dialogue about race issues ALOT. But, I have to admit I have gotten quite complacent in our mostly white world. Billy made the point that in a years time, our family went from one African American member to THREE and we are just now coming out of the fog of having an infant. But going to MLK Jr. parades and Juneteenth celebrations are not enough. Granted two of my doctors I see on a regular basis and the kids school principal are all dark black women, so I am thrilled that my kids can see professional African Americans. But that is not enough.  Jayden is one of about 8 African American kids in his Pre-K class and I am so happy about that, but even that is not enough.

This morning I ventured into a Barber shop I had noticed awhile back literally 3 minutes from my house. I had walked into it one Saturday and looked around, noted that ALL the men and customers were African American, smiled and asked how much kids cuts are and vowed I would be back! I'm sure they thought "what is with the white woman?" So today I took Jayden in and they called him "Little man" and the barber fluffed his head with the powder brush and edged it for over 15 minutes....lots of attention to detail. At the end they sprayed "sheen" on his head, a product I have never seen before and now plan on purchasing. In the background was hip hop music. On the bench was an elderly black man reading a magazine.

And I thought to myself, "my son belongs here." I believe his memory of his first two and a half years comes flooding back in scents, sounds, feelings NOT in words. Without constant exposure to the things of his racial culture, he will lose it all. I reflected on all that he lost when he was taken from his "roots". I know he has gained so much...the ability to grow up with his brother...the chance at having sisters and dogs and a Dad, a clean drug free home without violence. But he lost a part of his identity that we cannot give him back.

Don't get me wrong, I do not ascribe to the belief that black kids raised by white parents have no chance at knowing and learning their identity. And it is not just wishful thinking that puts me at that conclusion. I believe that it all depends on how dedicated their parents are to this cause of racial acceptance and self worth. But I do believe there is a loss there that we cannot predict how they will internalize into adulthood...for all of my kids. I plan on becoming much more intentional about how I view our role in the black community. As I said on Facebook today while I was posting some of these links: Did God call us to be comfortable or did he call us to be impactful? Its not just for my kids that I enter their racial world...it is for ME too so that I can better understand the beauty in God's sovereign design. 

I also plan on unpacking these types of topics in further blog posts as I seek out more and more information. I want to talk about this idea that is out there in blogland: black babies seen as being the hippest accessory to a white woman. I want to talk about what it means to have birth children who are white and an adopted black child right there in the middle or at the end, and the implications that has on their sense of self. I want to talk about why in the world it is quite popular for adoptive families to go over to Africa to adopt, when the race that waits the longest in the U.S. foster care system is black and domestic infant adoption agencies across the board have less families to parent black newborns than white. These issues I WILL address on this blog.

Please join in the discussion in a respectful way. It is only through education and our intentional efforts, that we can give our kids the best chance to grow up in a global world. I do always enjoy hearing what you think on these topics.