February was black history month. It seemed every time I turned around there were stories of triumphant blacks, sad cultural phenomenons, and historical feats. I am obviously extra sensitive to these issues considering Denali’s skin color. People often ask me my thoughts on having a biracial family, and as naive as it may sound I don’t think it is a big deal at all. I think we have a son who we are completely in love with, who happens to be black. He is an equal and unique part of our family. I have people in my life who teach their kids about slavery while inadvertently conveying that being white is somehow better than being black. I have others who constantly tell me how they want “one”. i.e. a black child. For some reason this topic has come up in many conversations lately. So as much as I think Denali’s skin color doesn’t matter, I know that there is much to be learned from our situation. My thoughts on adoption come down to two truths that I stand by that I have received through much prayer, pondering, and study.
Number One.
Denali is adopted. As much as we love him and cherish him and teach him right from wrong, he is adopted. As glorious as our journey in finding him was, he is still adopted. As much as we teach him to be a PROUD black young man in a white family, he is still adopted. I have a read a few adoption books and feel like I could read all day every day, and no matter what I do, assuming that is loving my boy to pieces, at the end of the day he is still adopted. And the bottom line is, that is his cross he will have to carry. Not mine. Whether he accepts it with no questions asked and feels like the luckiest kid in the world, or if he struggles with it every single day, it is ultimately his journey. I can love him, and value him, but just like every other soul put here on earth, he will have to decide for himself how he deals with it. I don’t think it will have much to do with the color of our skin at all, more so the way in which he came to join our family that he will either embrace or struggle with. Worrying about how he will feel and adjust as an adult is futile, all I can do is love him and be the very best mother, friend and example that I can be to him. Which leads me to my next thought.
Number Two.
I strongly believe that we were chosen to be Denali’s parents for a reason. I believe he is far greater than I will ever be, and just needed this family, MY FAMILY, to fulfill his life mission. Whatever that might be. I believe as parents in general we lead by example. We can talk to our children all day long, but how we live our lives is what they will ultimately learn from us. This being said, I take being Denali’s example and mentor very seriously. I believe with all my heart that he will learn and value himself by the way we treat day to day situations that arise with our “different” family. Overall, people are supportive and respect our family. Now and then, however, people feel the need to express their concern over having a black child with a white momma.
Let me illustrate. One day I was shopping and a black woman asked me if Denali was my son. I answered yes with a genuine large smile on my face. She didn’t like it. A few minutes later, after she had stewed about how wrong this situation was, she came to me and told me. In a three minute rant, her ignorant opinion was told. My first thought was how grateful I was that Denali didn’t understand any of it because he was too young. I smiled at her, honestly told her that I’m sorry she felt that way and that I don’t care what color my boy was he was mine. I told her that I believe that his life will be much better because he is a part of our family, and that ours was already so much better because of his. Then I turned and went on my way honestly feeling sorry for her and her limited thinking.
I only tell of this story because it wasn’t the first or the last time this will happen. And sooner than later Denali will understand what people say. But my reaction to these situations will teach Denali more than me telling him every day to stand up for himself and be proud. More than a defensive teaching mechanism, I believe this way of living will inadvertently teach him to be proud of his family, the same way we are proud of him.
Denali knows he is brown. It is actually his favorite color, and he smiles from ear to ear when he tells you he is brown simply because he loves brown. He insists he gets to drink brown soda and have a few more chocolate squares than the other kids, because he tells me “he might lose his brown” if he doesn’t! McKinley told me just the other day, “We need another baby. But it needs to be brown because we have way too many white people around here!” Denali whole heartedly agreed with her observation. I just chuckle as all my children come in to their own understanding of our family.
Do we talk about being different every day? No! We talk about how we are all the same every day. Breken taught me a valuable lesson when Denali was only a few days old. Breken was almost four years old when we adopted Ali. One day we sat down with Breken and asked him to look at his sweet new baby brother. We asked our blond haired, blue eyed boy to tell us all the things that were the same about Ali and him. He told us they were both boys, and they both had two hands and two feet, and so on. Then we asked him what was different. With a confused look on his face, like the question was odd, he shrugged his little shoulders and said, “I don’t know. He’s little and I’m big.” That was that. No thinking Ali’s brown skin was odd, and absolutely no thoughts of one being better than the other. Enough said.
When Ali was about 6 months old I heard the song from Tarzan, “You’ll be in My Heart” on the radio. Tears streaked my cheeks as I felt every word. It was as if Phil Collins took a dip in my heart and wrote what I had hiding in there. This is what I felt each time I looked in my son’s deep brown eyes and stroked his deep brown-skinned tummy. It’s kind of our thing now, ya know. My son and I.
Come stop your crying
It will be all right
Just take my hand
Hold it tight
I will protect you
from all around you
I will be here
Don’t you cry
For one so small,
you seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
can’t be broken
I will be here
Don’t you cry
‘Cause you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You’ll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You’ll be here in my heart, always
Why can’t they understand
the way we feel
They just don’t trust
what they can’t explain
I know we’re different but,
deep inside us
We’re not that different at all
And you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
Don’t listen to them
‘Cause what do they know
We need each other,
to have, to hold
They’ll see in time
I know
When destiny calls you
You must be strong
I may not be with you
But you’ve got to hold on
They’ll see in time
I know
We’ll show them together
‘Cause you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and foreer more
Oh, you’ll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You’ll be here in my heart, always
Always
My ultimate goal and deepest desire for my family,
and I guess my view of adoption in general,
is to have our biracial family…just be a family.
My family.
And I thank my Heavenly Father every day for it.
Lindsay is the Creator and Editor of Smitten By.
Read more about her here.
Comments
comments
This was really well said and thank you for sharing. As a mother and as a Latina adopted into a Caucasian family as a baby, your thoughts feel similar to my own and also those of my mother.
It sounds like you are a wonderful, loving mother and at the end of the day, that is all anyone could ever ask for in a parent. My mom and dad are my mom and dad and it doesn’t matter whether or not I was born biologically to them or “rerouted” to them through someone else.
At the end of the day, for me, it was never about adoption itself (family is family!), but about culture. I like to tell people that I have two trees–a family tree, and a cultural tree with a rich Latino roots. Your son has two trees, too, and as he gets older, it will be very important to nurture the cultural tree as well. But just because I have a culture tree doesn’t mean that my family tree is any less beautiful and important to me! It’s a part of me–who I am!