Mocha has a very poignant post today. I have had the opportunity to examine my own preconceptions as I learn daily what it is to be the parent of a black child. My child is black and both myself and my husband are very white. Going into this whole parenting thing is one thing, going into this whole parenting thing with a child of color is something very very different. Not only am I different than most of my mom friends because my son is adopted but I am also decidedly different because my son is black. Sadly, he is often the only child of color at any of our playgroups–one other woman has a daughter from China, but to be honest being Asian where I live is not the same as being black.
I really thought that I had a leg up on this whole race thing as I have had interactions with black people my whole life–as my city is about 50/50 white and black. This, I have learned, is more of a hindrance than a benefit. My city is segregated and segregated badly. There are white communities and black communities. Are their black people who live in the white communities, yes–but very very few. I have been forced to face my feelings about the black areas. I have been taught over the years not that black people where bad but that certain areas were dangerous. Well, who lives in those area? You guessed it.
I have thought about taking Minnow to places that offer more of an opportunity for him to interact with children of color. That would be good for him and it is my job to do what is good for him, but I would be an outsider. And in a city as segregated as ours, outsiders are not embraced with open arms.
It is important to clarify that our differences are much deeper than the color of our skin. They are cultural. These cultural differences are exacerbated by our skin color, but also for me because I am an adopted mother. The looks I get from black women and men when I am alone with Minnow differ greatly then the looks I get when I am with hubby as well. I might be an insider when it is just me–meaning Minnow could very well be my son, when it is just he and I, but when hubby is thrown into the mix, it is obvious that our son is adopted.
I don’t know how to conquer this issue. I have to keep wrestling with my own preconceived notions in order to give Minnow a balanced look at race. I have to be aware of the situations that somehow place a value on skin color–no matter how insignificant they seem. It is hard to be an outsider, but I think that it is easier for me as an adult to cope than it will be for my son and my future daughter. I need to seek out opportunities for my son to see and interact with people of color in a positive way.
As a woman and mother, reconciling my own feelings about being an outsider in so many groups is the hard part. I am lucky that this blogosphere has allowed me to “meet” many mom’s just like me–white adoptive parents of Ethiopian children. It is nice to be on the inside somewhere. You ladies rock…and you know who your are.
