Cole Patrick knew exactly what he was doing as he looked for my reaction. I know he is testing boundaries in our "new" family. Fortunately, being three, Brendan did not understand what C.P. was saying, but Cole Patrick was clearly advised that such talk would not be tolerated in our home. The vehicle by which our children came to our family does not matter--whether birth or adoption, the end result is the same--they are each equally members of our family.
Cole Patrick has clearly mastered his new role as "middle child". In eight months, we have all quickly shifted roles. We went from what Jason's grandmother calls a "king's family," a boy and a girl, to a transracial adoptive family, complete with a classic middle child. Now I will tell you, I am not much for labels--I don't really like them, but I do understand that people have the need to describe life around them, so, I am not personally offended that to some on our Base we have become, "You know, that white family with the little black boy."
Before I go further into becoming a transracial family, let me say that I do not intend to offend any one--if I do offend you, it is not intentional. Please keep in mind that this is all new to me--these are just my feelings and recently formed opinions. In fact, I would not be surprised if I read this in a year, and felt completely different. Mostly, I am just being honest about how it is right now.
To me being a transracial family feels a bit like standing over a chasm with one foot on each side, and each side hesitating to pull you over. Now I probably feel this way mostly because it is still fresh for me. Living 40 years as a white person, and then becoming mama to a black child has left me feeling a bit unsure of where we fit in. We even struggled with words--is black or African-American more appropriate? At first, Aidan would whisper "black," unsure what to say--we are figuring this out ourselves, and we will stumble. Right now, some people are clearly supportive--and many, I just can't read yet. Fortunately, I have not yet met anyone who was obviously opposed to our choice, but I am aware those folks are out there.
Unlike many adoptive parents, I don't receive many questions--lots of looks, yes, but not questions. I recently mentioned to a friend, who is black, that I am most wary of what blacks think of us. She responded, "You are right to feel that way. That is where you will receive the most criticism." Ugh, I had been hoping my intuition was wrong!
When we began our home study, one of the first sessions felt like a test of character. We were presented a battery of questions to determine match later. Among them, of course, "Would you take a child of another race?" We were always open to a child of any race--that was never a question for us. We read at least as many books about "transracial adoption" as we did about adoption itself. That being said, books only prepare you so much. I have had many people--always whites--say to me, "Times have really changed. Being a different race isn't a big deal anymore." I don't really agree with that. I don't mind people being curious--our family receives looks, we probably always will--but not all the looks are the same.
Going into this I was prepared for the obvious: the hair, the skin, the staring. Thanks to a few awesome black and biracial moms, I believe I have conquered the hair and skin. As for the looks, like I said, the curiosity will always be there--we're different. The area I had not aptly prepared myself for is being a mom to a black male.
The shooting of Trayvon Martin happened here in Florida, just two days after our official adoption of Brendan. I remember late one evening feeling complete shock as I more fully realized the responsibility we had as Bren's parents. Being white, in many ways, I am completely naive; I had not realized how differently people can be treated based on race. I had just read a New York Times article written by a young black student about how he has to dress certain ways when he goes to certain places, and how young black men always receive "the talk" from their parents. I do not mean the birds and the bees talk, but the talk about how to act when stopped by police--and how that can mean the difference between freedom and jail or even life and death. As a white person, I found this infuriating--I mentioned it to a black friend and she matter-of-factly replied, that is just the way it is.
I imagine I will continue to struggle with this--especially as Brendan grows, and we have many more experiences with how the world sees us--both positive and negative. In our own family, I have pretty much reached the point where I look at my babies, and I hardly notice the difference in color--Aidan, Cole Patrick and Brendan are our children--our REAL children. Period.
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