Discrimination

Discrimination. Defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, discrimination is "the process by which two stimuli differing in some aspect are responded to differently". At times I have been discriminated against for varying reasons: being a woman, being Catholic, being military, being a white mom, having a black son. Discrimination is pretty much ingrained in our society. When parents fail to teach their children to celebrate differences, suddenly different becomes something negative.

This morning, I walked into the Pediatric Dept at the 6th Medical Group here on MacDill for Bren's 0900 4-year-old well child check-up. Before I could even hand the receptionist my military ID, she asked me "Are you the child's biological parent?" I responded, "No, but I am his Mom." But she was already on the phone to the back. I continued to explain: "We have been here before. He is in DEERS as our son. His birth certificate names me as his parent..." "I get it, Ma'am," she responds, "you care for him." NO, you don't "get it"...I am not his caregiver. I am his MOM. Just the SAME as I am Aidan and Cole Patrick's mom. If you are asking me for prove that he is legally my child, when he is listed in DEERS as our son, than you better be doing some equal opportunity questioning of EVERY parent and requiring their birth certificates, too.

At that point, another Airmen poked her head out (the one that had been called by the receptionist) and led Bren and me to a conference room. She handed me a copy of a Florida Statute which, according to her, required me to provide his adoption decree before he could be seen by a provider. She continued to explain that they are required to enforce this law to avoid the possibility of lawsuits, and any physicians losing their licenses. At the end, I asked, "So you are telling me that you will not see him unless I go get his adoption decree." "Yes, Ma'am," she responded.

At this point, I am on the verge of tears, I am so angry. Any adoptive parent knows the blood, sweat and tears that goes into adopting. It takes an enormous amount of fortitude to navigate that journey. But when it is done, and you are holding the birth certificate that lists you as his parent, it is sweet. You finally have the legal "proof" of the commitment your heart already made. To me, I was being called out and having my role and rights as his mom questioned. I did not appreciate it.

As I walked out the door to go home for the adoption decree, Jason was standing at the reception desk. Praise God. Truly, because if he had gone TDY yesterday like he was supposed to, and I had to fight this battle on my own, it is possible I would have been standing on a desk, Security Forces may have been called, it wouldn't have been pretty... Nevertheless, Jas was there--I left Bren with him and drove home to get the required adoption decree.

The copy of the Florida Statute I was handed.

 Meanwhile, Jason read the statute (which I had not at that point because I was basically being bullied), went back to the conference room and explained to them what the statute meant. Reading it, it is pretty straight forward that this statute does NOT pertain to adoptive parents. As the portion they highlighted reads, ""Person who has the power to consent as otherwise provided by law"" includes a natural (my preferred term is biological, but that is a whole other post...! ;-) or adoptive parent..." This is certainly not rocket science--this is straight forward language. They should NOT be asking are you the biological parent. If their intent is to legally protect themselves, they should be asking "Are you the biological or adoptive parent or the legal guardian?"

In the end, we tried to explain this to three persons, including the physician, who seemed more interested in protecting himself than discriminating against adoptive parents. As I tried to explain to them, Bren will be called out as "different" enough in his life: he is adopted, he is black, his family is white. He should never be required to present his adoption decree on demand.  I know the reality that he will know discrimination, but this was completely unacceptable, unprofessional and just plain ignorant. He is our son; we are his family. We are different, and it is awesome.

How to be Black

Jason recently finished a book and highly recommended it to me. Since we have a mixed marriage, I had to go to the library to check out the version that looks, feels and smells like a book, as opposed to the electronic version he read on the iPad. So, this morning, I went to the library to check out the book: “How To Be Black.” As you can see, it is a really inconspicuous book, especially when a white woman is carrying it. J

By nature, I am an extraordinarily self-conscious person. So, it is somewhat ironic—perhaps even a bit humorous on God’s part—that I have found myself, having followed the Lord's calling, the mom in a transracial adoptive family. Being a transracial family in America is certainly one way to rip the band-aid right off of being overly self-conscious. Over the past year, I have tried to stand tall, often silently talking myself through it, as I knew eyes were on me. I know that some looks are purely curious, others judging—I am still struggling not to be overly-sensitive, either way. Slowly, we are learning to take everything in stride and infuse as much humor as possible into our family. My favorite response to “Is he adopted?” is when Jason responds, “He just came out that way. Imagine our surprise...!” I have not yet mustered up the courage to respond as boldly, and I cannot pull off humor like Jason, but I am getting there. I am confident I won't always have awkward responses...

It's no secret: Brendan's the cool one.


In no way has it been an easy year. However, it has certainly been an enlightening one. I have learned a lot about myself—not always proud moments. I hope I have built some character; I have definitely reinforced my belief that “character-building” experiences are not without lots of tears and frustration. I have also learned a little about what it is to be black. Beyond learning to care for skin and hair, I have learned that rub-on tattooes just don't work on dark skin, it is not nearly as easy in a dark bedroom to find my chocolate baby to kiss goodnight as it is to find my gravy babies, and finding personalized kid items in darker skin tones is next to impossible. Beyond the more trivial though, I have learned that the world often does see in black and white. I won’t try to verbalize this because I will surely express it with amazing ineptness, but I hope I am more understanding of every day struggles against racism. 



Apparently, this is the "dark" skin tone...Really? With a tan, I am darker than that!

As the book states in the introduction, it will not magically make you black if you are not already black, but it will certainly make you think,  maybe understand better…and certainly laugh. A lot. I have already laughed out-loud reading it in public—which is amusing just to imagine. With Black History Month coming up in February, I really like that the author, Baratunde Thurson, begins the book with 10 suggested ways to celebrate the contributions of blacks to America. Give it a shot, maybe give it a read. I really do believe that one tiny step at a time, we can all understand each other better--especially those of us who are a little different, like say, the Wrights...:-)