As the last step in our adoption process, Brian and I travelled to Liberia to pick up our son. When we boarded the plane in Knoxville for the first leg of our journey it was a flight made up entirely of white people. The next flight out of Dallas had a little more color. The large plane from New York was substantially more colorful including several people in outfits that looked very traditionally African. By the time we boarded the last plane that went from Brussels to Senegal and then on to Liberia we had become the minority. There were less than five white people on that last plane and I felt more than a little uncomfortable. All of the sudden we became aware of the distinctions between the Liberians (milk chocolate) and the Senegalese (dark chocolate) on the plane- distinctions we wouldn’t have noticed before. You better believe we made eye contact and smiled at the couple other white people on that flight and felt most comfortable making smalltalk with them.
Once we were in Liberia we found ourselves the center of attention everywhere we went, especially as a white couple totting around an adorable Liberian baby. It was incredibly unnerving. Again, we found ourselves searching out other white families because we assumed we had certain things in common with them. . . and because that felt safer.
It was the first time I really thought about what it must be like to be a black person in Nebraska. It was eye-opening for me and has changed the way I evaluate situations when I think from the perspective of my kids. Just recently we went to a Kiwanis pancake fundraiser. When I walked into that room filled with hundreds of people all I could think was, “Why is this so WHITE?” I just imagined being my son and searching the room for somebody- ANYBODY- who looked like me. I hate putting him in situations where he is the only one. I can’t imagine that it’s comfortable for him and so it isn’t comfortable for me either. Obviously, you’re not going to find a lot of racial diversity in Nebraska, so instead I look for an accurate representation, percentage wise. Nebraska is about 5% African American, so I want my son to be in situations where at least that 5% is represented. In his class of 24 Kindergarteners he has 6 kids who aren’t white. I’m okay with that representation, but it may not have been a coincidence. I had to be a bit aggressive about making sure Josh had kids in his class that looked like him and I’m thankful his school was able to accommodate.
These are the kinds of things you think about when you become a transracial family.
If you get far enough into the adoption process, someone is going to ask you if you’ve considered taking a child that’s a different race. Maybe you went into adoption knowing that’s exactly what you wanted to do. It is a much more socially acceptable thing to do than it was a generation ago. Brad and Angelina have made it trendy and thousands of families like mine have been making it “normal” as you see us at the park, your school, and the grocery store.
But just because the numbers of transracial families is higher than it has been in the past doesn’t mean this is a simple or easy transition. I remember my mom talking to me at one point in my life about interracial marriage. She said they would support me marrying a man of a different race as long as he was a man of good character, but she wanted me to know there would be ways it would make my life more complicated. This holds true for becoming a interracial family through adoption, too. (and it’s good to remember that people who are a little hesitant about you pursuing transracial adoption may not be unsupportive, but may be accurately pointing out concerns about how this will change your life and this child’s life)
We were at an adoption training recently and an African American woman who is an adoptive parent was in charge of doing the part of our training that addressed transracial parenting. She said that 95% of parenting a transracially adopted child is exactly like parenting any other child. Just 5% of your life has anything to do with being a multiracial family. I think her observation has been very true in our family. So much of the time we don’t even think about our differences, but then there is that 5% of the time. And if you’re not comfortable embracing that 5% of the time, you’re in trouble.
So what happens during that 5% of the time?
That’s the time we spend watching youtube videos of dances from each of our kids’ cultures. That’s the time I spend researching the most healthy and natural ways to deal with my African’s super dry skin. It’s the time we spend talking about the history of segregation in our country. The time we wonder why people are giving us that funny look and then we realize it’s because it’s pretty obvious this family didn’t happen in the usual way. It’s the time we spend talking about how we don’t judge people by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character because that’s how we want people to judge us. It’s the time we spend educating other people about how we really ARE family even if we don’t look like it. The time we spend researching and communicating with adults from our kids’ birth cultures to better understand the obstacles my kids may face. It’s the time I spend making fry bread for my little Sioux or groundnut stew for my Liberian.
We are not colorblind. We wouldn’t want to be. We find so much joy in the different colors and cultures of our kids. We have found that the vast majority of people who want to interact with us on the subject of transracial adoption are supportive of what we’re doing, too. I can count on one hand the amount of times somebody has said something hurtful or even given us a dirty look. By and large people are supportive. So if you’re considering transracial adoption, it is good to know that it is a rich and stretching experience. It has added so much to our lives and to our understanding of the world. It isn’t that we are all the same, it’s that we love the ways we are different.
Any questions about transracial thoughts? Lessons learned from your experience? I’d be glad to hear!
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