Growing Family

I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I Do Know Why I'm Here

The first year of parenting is full of new experiences and I doubt that anyone can come through it without some pretty life-changing shifts in perspective. I knew that would be the case before I became a parent, I just didn't realize which perspectives would change the most.

I remember telling a friend of mine, a single guy friend who was outside my "mommy circle", "you know, I've been thinking about starting a blog to have a place to write about what I'm experiencing parenting Small Sun, that my other mommy friends don't get." Our little family hadn't been together long before I began to notice...things. I ventured to ask my friends about experiences or conversations that struck me as odd or inappropriate and my friends told me "oh, I wouldn't take it that way" or "they didn't mean that". At that point I didn't have any other friends who had adopted, no peer group for our kind of family. My mommy friends were my only sounding board and they told me that when I thought someone was treating us oddly, I was wrong.

I can't explain how relieved I felt when I read The Racism Radar by Vera L. I'd love it if you could read the whole thing but here are some core pieces that I want to reference:

I wish the racism radar could be as technically sure and accurate as the real thing. But it is a very subjective, subtle instrument. Something in the context of an incident, something in a person’s voice or attitude when they make a remark, the way that a co-worker off-handedly tosses a report onto a desk, or passes over a comment made by a person of color in a meeting – something — starts an internal “ping, ping, ping” and we are on guard, alert and watching. “What is going on here? Did he really just do that? Am I seeing right?” And because the kind of ordinary, every day racism that people of color face is usually not as clear cut as the comments Don Imus hurled at the Rutgers Women’s basketball team (although, incredibly, because he was “joking” there were those who argued he was not being racist at all), we are often left to figure out whether we’re getting an accurate reading. We look at the context of the incident, what we know about the people involved, whether there have been similar incidents in the past, look to the reactions of others in the room. Often, the radar will result in the only two African Americans in the room exchanging knowing glances while the white folks move obliviously along...

Yes, it’s true, there are some black people whose radars are set to the sensitive side – they see racist conspiracy everywhere. And there are some black people who stay at the opposite side of the dial, refusing to see racism, and brushing away all but the most undeniable incidents. And then there are the rest of us who make our conclusions incident by incident, based on a combination of what’s in front of us and past experience...

But it is also my experience that for many white folks who don’t deal with everyday racism the radar is either dialed way down or just flat doesn’t work at all. Most white people who aren’t forced to confront racists acts and attitudes are more comfortable with the idea that racism no longer exists, and believe that those of us who see it are boxing shadows of the past. And since white culture is the majority culture here in the US, the prevailing attitude leans towards dismissing as innocent all but the most egregious acts of racism. To do otherwise is being “too sensitive” or “avoiding responsibility”.

What I took away most from this is that when I feel alarmed or concerned about the way someone is interacting with me or my child, I shouldn't just disregard it and assume the best. I should examine it carefully and consider what is bothering me and why. I started this blog to have a place to do that, because the people I tried to process it with, live, had their radar "dialed way down" and thought I was being too sensitive.

In response to my "I Don't See Color" post, Heather said:

1- "choosing to minimize or disregard a person's color is part of white privilege.": A person saying they don't "notice" color does not mean they are minimizing or disregarding their race. It may simply mean it is not foremost in their impression or their opinion of that person.

2- "Ambivalence about race is the luxury of a person who does not experience discrimination based on their race": Ambivalence about race is not a bad thing. These people mean it in a way such as they have no preference for one over the other. They are not all discounting the race of a person as in the culture and heritage of their ethnicity that makes up who they are. They are simply saying they don't think of them as being different as a person. There is nothing more to it than that. They are saying that they see a person, a human being, who may have a different color of skin, but is living in the same country, in the same world, as anyone else; white, black, tan or whatever. Skin color is not the total of who they are. Not the total. Not "noticing" skin tone does not equal parents not noticing who they are as a person, ethnicity included.

As much as you have stereotyped people who are not in your position and may misspeak things (according to you), I think you are just as guilty of jumping to conclusions and only looking at the way you see things as anyone on any side of this difference.

What I am doing here is relating my personal experiences and things that give me pause in my interactions with others. I do understand that whenever I make an assumption about another person's motivation, without having it directly from the horse's mouth, I am at risk of stereotyping. In addition I know I stereotype different groups from time to time. That said, I came to the internet to learn from the perspectives of people I do not have close relationships in real life: first parents, adoptees, and Persons of Color. I don't spend as much time focusing on the experience of adoptive parents because I am on that side of things, I've worked in adoption, I know a lot of adoptive parents. I feel like that experience is familiar enough to me to generalize about, and of course I am going to mis-represent someone. That's the nature of generalizations.

You are telling me here, what people really mean when they say things, yet you don't really know either. You and I can only speculate on a person's true motivation and what they "really mean". I'm writing here about MY reaction to certain statements and MY PERSPECTIVE on the outcome of those views, and why I find those discussions to be difficult. This goes beautifully with what Lori said about my "Arg" moment:

I feel like I need to apologize in advance for anything I might communicate out of ignorance. I sometimes go back over conversations we've had and wonder if you've taken offense or thought that things I've said were stupid, insensitive, or inappropriate. I have no idea what it's like to be the mom of a child whose skin color is different from mine. I do know what it's like to go to dinner or to the movies with a date whose color is different from mine. I've also experienced going places and doing things with children whose skin color differs from mine (and that of my children), but I no longer expect people to make inappropriate comments. I'm actually surprised when they do. Interestingly enough, they usually don't. I think it's mostly because I'm not looking for it. I think a lot of our experience is based on what kind of glasses we wear--what we're accustomed to noticing--what we're looking for--what we believe about the world around us--and what we've been taught to believe.

I used to agree with you. Before we adopted Small Sun I probably would have said the same thing. But then I started getting those "ping ping pings" on my radar. Remember people, how I grew up. I was a home school kid living in the country and going to small churches. I knew about the Civil Rights movement and that the KKK still did bad stuff...but I didn't really know ANYTHING about race relations in American today. I tried to educate myself before we adopted and I thought I was pretty prepared. I knew there were racist people out there and that it would be my job to protect and raise my children to be successful in spite of racism, but I thought that was "out there", "in the future". The effects of stereotype and white privilege and prejudice have found me and my family in places I never expected.

A leader in our church meets my son for the first time and immediately asks me if his mom was young and using drugs. A close friend uses a discriminatory ethnic stereotype while my son is feet away. Friends confide in me why they couldn't have a child of color in their family because of the racism that exists there.

I didn't expect that. I didn't expect these things to creep so close. I thought I had to protect my son from unfair hiring practices or biased school systems. I didn't know that I would be patiently explaining about how we value our son's mother and want a relationship with her, or that my son isn't going to choose his other family and go live with them when he finds out about them (obviously he's not going to "find out" if he always knows), or that not all African Americans are naturally good at sports and so my son might not be an athlete, or that not all black people know how to dance, my son just loves to groove.

I knew when we started building our family that I needed to prepare for a lifetime of visibility and curiosity. I just didn't know that after 2+ years I would still get nervous when people start with "so...your son's adopted?" and I don't know where they're going with it. Some people have perfectly innocent questions and are sincerely interested in adoption. Others are just curious and feel they have the right to ask very personal questions about our family or make statements about race or adoption that are simply inappropriate. Still others are just looking for a launching pad to air their opinions.

I appreciate those of you who I know in real life, who have come here to get a glimpse of my parenting experience, and I don't want to scare you out of my life. At the same time, I honestly don't see a little second guessing or careful thinking as a bad thing. I just read a piece about the difficulty of Aboriginal-European Australian relations and the advice to the immigrant was "speak carefully, ask questions thoughtfully, and above all else, listen." Racism IS all around us, whether I'm on hyper alert or in oblivious mode. I am paying attention to the "pings" on my radar because whether I regard them and formulate a response, or choose to stay silent, I am dialing into the world that my son will experience.  He can do it with our help, or we can set him to do it alone. One day he'll have to take the world and its injustice on by himself, but not today.

 

 

Arg: And What I SHOULD HAVE Said

I still feel like I'm failing in a lot of ways, as a transracial parent. Today was one of those kicking myself moments.

We were having playgroup at a public bookstore that has kid stuff. My friend was watching her boss's (?) daughter and her boss came to get her daughter at the bookstore. Anyway, my son and his friend were playing together and the boss says "wow, he has such an unusual look." I just kind of shrugged and let it go because I was hoping that was it.

Someone makes the mistake of saying "who are you talking about" or something like that. She says (in reference to my friend's son who is a little blond cutie) "well he is handsome too, of course, but I mean this one" (pointing to my son), "he just has SUCH a unique look! he is really gorgeous!" I kind of wince out a flat "thank you" and give her the blank look of "shut up already."

She then goes on to say "oh, so he's yours? WHAT IS HIS DAD?" Yes, you heard me right. She hurries on to say "I mean, what's his NATIONALITY, his ethnicity, you know..."  I let out my breathe slowly and think "she's my friend's boss, I really shouldn't give her a lesson in manners" so I answer that he's biracial with African American and white heritage. She says "from where? Like, Nigeria?" and I give her another "you idiot" stare and say "no, X state." She's all shocked and "oh, really?"

I didn't take her bait to tell her all about our family. So she begins to tell me about her niece or nephew or someone who is Brazilian and half African, half Spanish and how all multiracial children are goreous and blah blah blah.

Later she sees me holding my daughter and says "is she yours too?".

"Yup."

End of convo.

It really bugs me when people want to have extended conversations about my son's ethnicity and how gorgeous he is, and how "in" it is to be biracial, and how all the models these days are "mixed", and how my son has the best of both worlds - tan skin and good hair and on and on, all right in front of him like he's oblivious. Do I pick your child apart within their hearing (or at all!)? Do I get all personal about how your child joined your family? Do I inquire about your fertility for a chatty conversation? Do I ask you if you're afraid that one day your child is going to decide he likes...say his grandparents more than you and go live with them instead? Sheesh.

We'd gone so long without any stupid, I guess we were just due for a dose.

PS- Thanks for all the linky-love and I'm glad you're liking the new do!

"I don't see color": White Privilege is the invisible blindfold

I used to spend a lot of time on an adoption web board. Eventually most of my activity was confined to a forum for transracial families. Now I don't even go there anymore.

I can't tell you how many times I have heard people say "I don't even see my child as black anymore" or "we just don't think race is that important." I used to try to bring in a different perspective. Now I'm running low on patience and I just want to smack people upside the head...so I don't visit much anymore.

So for those of you who aren't in my world, here's why I have SUCH a problem with parents saying that: choosing to minimize or disregard a person's color is part of white privilege. (I read someone defining white privilege as always having the benefit of the doubt and I like that simple definition.) Ambivalence about race is the luxury of a person who does not experience discrimination based on their race.

Ethnicity doesn't negatively impact white people on a day to day basis (well, a culture steeped with racism is damaging to everyone, but you know what I'm saying). White people have the privilege of not taking race very seriously and often times white adoptive parents extend that lax attitude to their non-white children. Problem is, their children aren't living in the same reality.

When parents talk about race not being important I wonder about their child's future. How will their child feel when they come to realize that their culture and heritage just wasn't "that important" to their parents? That their skin tone is something that their parents "don't even notice"?

I struggle to stay civil when I hear people say they plan on raising their non-white child in a 100% white environment, with no natural access to any diversity because they don't think race is "that big of a deal" and "there is more to a person than just their race!" Okay, so if we picked you up, and moved you to a neighborhood where NO ONE looked like you and you had NO PLACE to ever meet another person like you, and said that the way you looked just wasn't that important and you shouldn't get hung up on it, that would be okay?

Every day when I look at my son I see a beautiful brown boy. I see his first family and I see his ancestors. I hope I don't ever stop seeing his ethnicity or stumble into the belief that it is not important. It is who he IS whether I see it or not.

A Little of This

You all probably don't notice when I go quiet on here. I feel like it is my turn to talk at an event and everyone is waiting for me to say something. Whether you noticed or not, I've been sitting here, mulling over some things in my mind and wondering which ones to commit to the screen.

First of all, my faith. You know, I started this blog over a year ago thinking that I had something unique to share about adoption based on what I believe. Basically that God still does big stuff and that is evident in my life, in our lives, and in our adoptions. Over the last year I've been in a tangle with so much of the pain and injustice present in adoption that that has been my focus. It has been a season of my life, one where I questioned things I never thought I would. I've turned a corner and while I'm not coming back to the same place I started, I am re-claiming the truth I knew before.

I've heard so many crazy stories about children who really needed families and (what I believe to be) God making a way for their adoptions. Like my friends who are under 30 and have eleven children*. Let me tell you how that happened: well first of all, they are on of those families that believe in trusting God to bless them with however many children. It's not for me, but it works for them. So, about three years ago they had four biological children under six or seven. Then they found out about all the orphans in Liberia and they got passionate about adoption. They found out about a sibling group of two...who turned out to have a 14 year old sister. They went to adopt them and while the father was there, a woman asked him to adopt her infant daughter and they agreed. So they started off planning to adopt two, then broadened their boundaries to adopt the older sister, and then again to bring home the baby.

A while later they got up at our church to explain what happened next. After bringing the four children home (and doubling their kids!) they decided to go back to adopt their children's two closest friends from the orphanage. One little problem was that they didn't have any money before all of this started, and they certainly didn't have any money now! They didn't tell anyone, not even their families, that they wanted to adopt again because people had already generously helped them with the first adoptions.

Out of the blue, a woman from another state, who they had never met, called them and said "I really wanted to help financially with your adoptions but I heard that you already completed them. Would it be possible for me to make a donation (of thousands of dollars) directly to the orphanage?" The amount she wanted to donate was EXACTLY the amount needed to bring the two children home!

Later my friend was shopping with her large crowd of children in a department store and a woman came up and said that she wanted to buy a complete wardrobe FOR EACH OF THE CHILDREN!

To me, this is God doing stuff. It talks a lot in the Bible about God caring for people who are disadvantaged: orphans, widows, strangers, travelers, people in prison, people who are alone. I think the way the church then interfaces with disadvantaged people is often condescending, paternalistic, and demeaning. But set the church aside. The truth of "the gospel" is that God really cares about those people, honestly, genuinely, and deeply. I think that when individuals love others in the same way, God brings the resources.

So, up until now I've left my faith pretty much out of this blog. I'm so disgusted and disillusioned with the American church that I hesitate to even identify myself as Christian, for fear of being classified with the stereotypes. But I'm finding, after a year of struggle, that when I get down to looking at what I really care about - people in need - I can't leave Jesus out of it. At least, he isn't letting me. So I promise not to get all preachy, I guess I just need to set that out there for honesty's sake.

If you don't have faith, don't run off because I do. It has meant so much to me to spend the last year hearing from people who aren't in my shoes. I value your voices and I won't try to drown you out with Bible thumping. Promise.

*For those of you who were counting, child number eleven is another biological baby! I really cannot imagine!

A Few Things to Make you Happy

So there are over 200 new posts in my RSS reader. I think I might have to dump them all and start anew. I can't read through that kind of backlog!

Speaking of backlog, I've been back for two days and I think I'm seeing the light at the other end of the laundry. I'll resume my regularly scheduled broadcasts in the next day or two but in the meantime I can't resist posting some cute pics of my little darlings, and our trip...at least for a day or two. Enjoy!

Church at Highland Village, Cape Breton Canada

Historic School House at Highland Village

The Gatehouse

The Barn, where we stayed while attending the Celtic Colors International Music Festifal in Cape Breton, Canada

Off We Go

We're on our way to Canada. Cold temperatures and windy woods, here we come!

Oh, and to answer the last question: I love to read but I don't get as much time as I used to... I sometimes go weeks or months in between reads and then I go on binges. I read books during nap times and after the kids go to bed. I read hungrily, ravenously, flying over intricate phrasing to follow the plot.

I love stories. Right now that's what I'm reading. Stories. Mostly true, mostly adoption memoirs. I hear about books on NPR or read about them in magazines, then order them off of half.com. That's how I read.

Have fun this week and I'll be back soon.

My Own Questions

I just finished reading Secret Daughter: A Mixed Race Daughter and the Mother who Gave Her Away by June Cross. Also on my mind is Paula O'Loughlin's recent post Getting to the Other Side at Heart, Mind and Seoul. Both discuss the identity fracturing question "why did my mother give me away" and their struggles to unify the "facts" and the feelings.

It's got me wondering, does it help an adoptee to know their story? If a child has an actual list of reasons their parents placed them for adoption, does that in any way answer the grief and the pain that accompanies being given away?

I know I hear some adoptees talk about how they are thankful for their adoption and the life they have. I've also heard other adoptees state that any adoptee still touting that line is either in denial or can't open themselves up to feeling anything different because the immensity of the pain might be too great. That's what Paula is saying in her post - that considering negative feelings about her placement is so tumultuous, the possibility threatens to pull her identity completely apart. I really don't know what to think.

I just wonder what I will tell my son, and if my telling him the truth that I know will make any difference to the pain he might feel. I've been telling him his adoption story since he was born. I know other parents who have it all worked out into the perfect seamless story. I stumble, and falter, seeing so many cracks, so many opportunities for a different ending. I imagine his teenage questions that could  shatter the story completely. Is any reason ever good enough? Is there any one thing that could satisfy a heart in grief?

Last night The Captain told me that he loves my thirst for honesty. That no matter how much it pains me, I am compelled to live honestly. I think that's what I got out of  Heather.PNR's post  Reality Doesn't  Always Bite at Production Not Reproduction. She says that for her, open adoption makes the most sense because it is dealing with reality instead of ignoring it or creating a more convenient reality. I have to be honest with my kids about their stories. Even though I know it may hurt them. Even if I know it might leave room for doubts.

Can any story or any detail eliminate the heart longing to have been kept?

They Just Keep Growing

On Saturday I let Small Sun take a shower with me before I went out. He's a bath kind of man so this hasn't happened for a very long time.

He studied my movements and then picked up a bar of soap and started washing himself, in imitation. I told him "wash your elbows, wash your belly...and pen*s." He washed away and then stared at me hard and asked"

"Mama [where's your] pen*s?"

"I don't have a pen*s honey."

"Mama [where is] baby pen*s?"

"Baby doesn't have a pen*s either."

"Pappa [has a] pen*s?"

"Yes, you and Pappa both have a pen*s because you are boys, but Mama and Baby are girls and we have vagin*s.

"Oh."

And we keep on washing. :)

Yesterday I was changing the sheets on all the beds and when I got to The Sprout's crib her bedding smelled fragrant. It seems that babies lose that lovely smell but it lingers in things they have prolonged close contact with. I thought the smell was gone and suddenly there it was, filling the room. My breathe caught in my throat.