Through a long and somewhat complicated series of events, a young Black man came to live with us for several months while he was finishing high school. The dynamics between all of us were a little strange. While we weren't his legal guardians our role was very similar to foster parents, even though there was only about six years between us.
To the outside world, we were often perceived as a couple. He and I were out together pretty often with me picking him up from school or practice or taking him shopping. Getting to know T, and having him live with us was a great experience.
Like I said before, our house is small. There's nowhere to go for personal space. T and I would end up talking all of the time. He'd sit at the kitchen table and talk while I fixed dinner. He'd come home from a long day at school and work and traveling Nashville's crummy public transport system and we'd talk. He'd get off the phone with a girl he liked, and we'd talk.
My relationship with T is the closest relationship I've had with an African American person. He got a safe place to stay, hot meals, help with homework and college admissions. I got so much more.
With T I got to experience how the world reacted to us as "an interracial couple", though we were not. There are things that are hard to describe - like how the Black salesgirl at a local mall store was helpful and courteous in the past, but when I was shopping with T she related to me with a completely different vibe. There was less space between us. Her manners and speech were more comfortable, less reserved.
I felt like we always drew attention. T is over 6 feet, athletic, and really handsome. People check him out wherever he goes. Sometimes after we left a place T would say "did you see the way they were staring at us?" or sometimes he's ogle them back. Though I called him my little brother, he was always acting like my protector.
With T I got to explore my feelings about raising a Black son, especially how I might feel if my son grows to strongly identify with Black hip hop or street culture. Sometimes I'd come home from work and there would be cars at my house. I remember one time I walked into the living room and there was rap playing and a game of cards going on in the middle of the room. There's about six guys hanging out, being loud. When I come in they all look up at me and I could tell that after I went into the kitchen T was getting his ribs hit. "You said you were stayin' with your sister! Who's that?" Everyone wanted to meet me and give me big grins.
T always introduced me as his sister. People drew lots of different conclusions about our hypothetical family make-up. As T is light-skinned, more than one person thought that we were biological half-siblings. Oftentimes people accepted our "family" status without question. That really surprised me.
Once T's brother passed through town and stopped by to see T when we weren't there. T told me that he looked around the house and finally asked "who are all these white people in their pictures?" It was only then that T told him we where white.
It was while T was living with us that we adopted Small Sun. He was really into the whole thing, and kept asking "when are we going to get our baby?" When Small Sun came home and I was giving him his bottles in the middle of the night, T would wander into the living his room, rubbing his eyes. He'd stay up and talk to me to keep me company.
T wanted to help us with Small Sun, telling us how his grandmother did his hair when he was a baby, and how his sister-in-law did her son's hair. He told me how he though I should brush it, and that I shouldn't cut it, and that if I didn't brush it often, their hair would stand up and lose its wave pattern. He held Small Sun and loved on him a lot.
When T left to go to college out of state I sobbed for hours. He had been through a whole lot in his life and was heading into an uncertain future. I wished I could have helped him become more equipped for life. I knew that it was unlikely that we would be able to stay in touch, and I so desperately wanted to see him happy and successful.
I don't think I'll ever forget those months spent with T. With him I got to try on so many different interracial relationships: mentor, sister, tutor, guardian, perceived girlfriend, and friend.
I've been trying to find him lately. Searching myspace, the college he was supposed to attend, his disconnected phone numbers, his temporary address. I hope he is well. He gave me so much.
I’ve been reading about the push to adopt in the evangelical world and I really have mixed feelings about it. For the most part, I think it is a positive thing but I also have several serious concerns.
1. Feeling a call to adopt doesn’t mean that you are equipped to be an adoptive parent, especially if you are adopting a child that is older or has special needs. Unfortunately, I know of local cases where children adopted by “Christian” families have been abused and even killed. It’s hard to believe, I know. Being a Christian doesn’t necessarily mean that you are ready and prepared to be a good parent. So I hope that in cases where churches are starting their own agencies, they also maintain rigerous examination of potential adoptive parents and extensive training. I don’t think there’s enough training and assistence provided for adoptive families across the board.
2. While I think that the church is called to care for those in need, there are some common pitfalls that a lot of us Christians get stuck in that actually end up harming those in need. I think we often view people in need as victims and think that by removing them from their situation or introducing Western style Christian solutions, we are “saving” them. We need to be careful to maintain respect for people while we’re trying to help them. That’s what Jesus’ love is all about. So when we’re helping aid people in poverty, let’s respect them. When we’re adopting a child under any circumstances, let’s extend respect and love to their birth family and culture. I’ve heard way too many people talking about “those poor people in Africa who don’t even know how to help themselves” or “that destitute country where children are bound for prostitution/death/whatever”. Those attitudes are condescending and overlook the rich God-given values and strengths that are the foundation for success in people lives and in whole countries.
So I’m excited that evangelical Christians are hearing about children in need. I just hope that while they are helping those children they are approaching the whole situation from a desire to empower others, and contribute to stability as a whole, not just “rescuing” individuals.