Fostering-to-Adopt and Race
When we were filling out our initial paperwork to become pre-adoptive foster parents, one question we had to answer was that of race. What races, ethnicities, and cultures of children would we accept into our home? Even more importantly, what racial and ethnic background would we prefer in a child we adopted?First, it's important to know more about who Michael and I are.
I suppose I need to figure out how to post our photo to the main page of my blog. My dear husband is African-American. I am mutt Caucasian. My background is Greek, Hungarian, Norwegian, English, and even American Indian. I look Greek and Hungarian. My husband is tall, very dark, and (of course), handsome. In summer, his skin glows like freshly brewed espresso. In summer, I remain pretty darn white.
I had dated "outside my race" in the past - I had, after all, lived in Mexico. In college, I hung out with guys from Argentina, Peru, Columbia, and El Salvador. I dated a guy from Sweden, but I'm not sure that counts.
I had never, ever, ever dated an African American. I had admired them from afar. I had known Caucasian girls who had crossed the color barrier. I grew up in the south where women were disowned by their families for committing such an act. My parents openly forbid me from dating black men. They openly spoke about how it would destroy my life - citing "society" and how much it would hold me back from being successful. They would comment on bi-racial children as if they were somehow less of children - little creatures to feel sorry for. I had rebelled against my parents on many, many things. This was one I dared not rebel against. I never even put myself in situations where I would meet black men I might become attracted to and want to date. I remember Derrick Broxton in college. He played the saxophone in the jazz band. He was a Christian. His parents were professionals and well educated. He was funny and kind, and smart. He was also black. I remember thinking it was a shame that I couldn't pursue a relationship with him. I was 16 (yup - 16 in college) and was at the mercy of my parents' every rule.
As I grew, I learned how ignorant my parent's views (more my father's) were, and how hurtful they could be. My brother - 7 years my junior - never dated non-white women. He never even had any as friends. Even as I went away to college, I did not break the rule.
But as a woman who was 30 and becoming single again, the former rules and views of my parents seemed much less important. When my path crossed Michael's once again and I felt the things I did, race did not enter my mind. It did, however, enter the mind of the friend I was rooming with at the conference. When I confided in her that I had feelings for Michael, she grabbed my arm and pointed at it. She said, "Look, do you see this? Do you see it? Tam, what do you see here?" "Um, hair? Freckles?" "Tam, you're white. What are you doing? Are you crazy? Your dad would shit. Your parents would disown you, right? Mine would. Geez, Tam, I love you. Think about this, will ya?" And that was that. We walked out of our hotel room and back to the convention.
Michael had different experiences with race and dating. He found lots of girls to be cute, but there were subtle messages at home, church, and school about race. Michael was in his 20's and in graduate school when he first told his parents about a relationship he was having with a white woman (though he'd had them in the past, none had ever been "important enough" to call home about). She even came to Mississippi to visit him at his parent's house. His parents and family members were not thrilled with the prospect of a white daughter-in-law, but seemed happy that Michael had found love and companionship. As Michael went through graduate school in Tampa, FL, the possibility of meeting educated black women in his social circle was virtually nil. He dated all kinds of women from all kinds of backgrounds. He was dating a white woman when we met up again in 2001. By then, his parents had probably figured it was likely Michael would never get married, and if he did, that he would marry outside his race. By the time he introduced me to them, they were pretty well prepared to meet a white woman.
My parents did not meet Michael until after we had been married for 8 months. He met them when we flew to FL last December for my brother's wedding. None of my family members had ever met Michael, nor had anyone made any effort or offer to. They vehemently disapproved of the relationship and marriage, and said hurtful and hateful things that I never though I would hear come out of their mouths in 2003 - from Christian people in 2003 no less. I was (and remain, on some level) ashamed.
Michael's parents were supportive and kind from the start. My parents (correction - my mother) are just now starting to show interest in us and what is going on in our lives. I think my mom's diagnosis with breast cancer at the start of the year, the surgery and radiation, and now our attempts to become parents has had a lot to do with the transformations. Sometimes, it unfortunately takes a crisis to open our eyes to our own wrongs.
Now, as we look to foster and adopt a child (or children), the issue of race pops up yet again. When we were trying to conceive (before we found out we couldn't), it was a given that our child would be bi-racial. How light or dark skinned our children would be - well, that is the stuff of prophets. Genetics would predict that our children would be fairly dark skinned - but the chances range from as light as me to as dark as Michael - and everything in-between. About that, we just didn't care. We cared about having a healthy child (or having a child- period) far more than we cared what that child looked like.
We've had a lot of conversations over the years about being an interracial couple, and about raising and parenting bi-racial children. We've talked about ways to protect and foster racial identity, and have them understand all aspects of their ethnic makeup. If the child chose to identify as African-American, so be-it. If a bi-racial identity felt more appropriate, so be it. We doubted the child would identify as white - but, if so, we would respect a child's need to develop their own racial and ethnic identity.
So, when it came to becoming pre-adoptive foster parents - we said race did not matter. Regardless, we were forced to choose preferences. We listed our preferences in this order: bi-racial, African-American, Hispanic, Native American, and Caucasian. We figure that so many people want to adopt little blonde-haired, blue-eyed children. We want a baby already considered "Special Needs" for no other reason than race - and that there are so few families waiting to take a bi-racial or African-American child, much less adopt them.
My dream? In a perfect world, there would be a little brown-skinned bi-racial baby who needs a family. It can be a boy or a girl. I think Michael would like a boy, although he sure was nice to Bumble Bee the other weekend. We would do our best to see to it that our child knew about their uniqueness, and celebrated that. We would do our best to teach them how to handle the looks, and comments, and questions from those who are uneducated, ignorant, and racist. We are prepared to get hurt. And I'm sure I'll get a lot of questions as to "who's child that is". I don't think I will have to practice any to be able to lift my eyes up, smile broadly, and say, "Mine."
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 9/08/2005 11:23:00 AM
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