My Journey to a New Reality

Aidan, Bren & Cole Patrick

I was at the doctor a couple weeks ago, and she mentioned that a friend of hers was told in the adoption process that if they choose to adopt a black baby their adoption would move much quicker. This is absolutely true. In fact, until we were in our home study, I did not know that many adoptive parents are not open on the issue of race. I vividly remember being absolutely floored by this. It seems contradictory to me. You are willing to adopt a child that is not biologically yours, but you want to pick out the color? This astounded me. I was naïve--so incredibly naïve.

First of all, not everyone adopts because their are too many children that need a loving family; in fact, many people adopt because they need a child. Now, you think I am master of the obvious here, but in actuality, everyone lives within their own scope of reality, however narrow or wide that may be. My reality wasn't that I needed another child, but I really wanted one...or two or three more, and I was aware that there were a bunch that needed homes, so it was pretty logical. Adopting a child of another race, I learned just how narrow my scope really was. As I was talking to my doctor, I told her, I felt almost ridiculous that I had lived 40 years only truly seeing part of the world. In fact, she said, you can apply that to so many instances. For example, say you were opposed to homosexuality and you had a homosexual child, suddenly you might view things completely differently. This is a valid point,and it could be applied in several instances. Absolutely--once it is personal, it changes everything. It is truly humbling.

ADORABLE!!!

I am currently reading, Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Daniel Tatum. First of all, yes, I do pick my books by how awesome the title is--just like I pick my wine by how creative the name is--the crazier, the better. I am a simple person. Seriously, this is a phenomenal book. Amazing eye-opener. As I have previously stated, as parents of a black male, Jason and I feel enormous responsibility to realistically prepare him for how society will see him, both WITH us and on his own. I will confess that I am extremely diligent about manners and behavior with him, probably even overboard, but any little edge I can give him, I will. I am fully aware that the world will be harder on my little brown baby than my two blue-eyed, fair-haired children. As their Mama, it absolutely breaks my heart, and I cannot always wrap my head around it, but I fully know that denying it is not doing Brendan any favors. It is Jason's and my job to raise him to be the best man possible and ignoring racism is not an option.
 
I am only a few chapters into the book, but already it is bleeding pink highlighter. I really like how the author defines racism in America. She explains that it cannot be called an expression of prejudice alone, but rather it is a "system of advantage based on race." Now, I was raised with little exposure to people who looked different than me, and I did not hear my family speak negatively of other races, so perhaps I am an oddity in that I am more intrigued by differences than I am fearful of them. I have always been drawn to better understanding people's differences, whether it be physical, beliefs, politics or religion. In the past almost two years since Brendan became part of our lives, it has been a flood of new knowledge for me. At times, I have felt nearly overwhelmed by the wide scope of differences in my previous reality vs. actual reality (or perhaps current reality).

Yes, the advantage is undeniable. As I prepare Brendan for school, I am much more nervous than I ever was with Aidan or Cole Patrick. As whites, in complete honesty, there are so many advantages we never even notice--that is our reality. For instance, I sent both Aidan and Cole Patrick to preschool and then on to Kindergarten with complete confidence that they would be treated fairly by their teachers--it never occurred to me that they might not be. On the other hand, that is currently one of my greatest concerns for Bren--selecting a school/teacher where he will not be treated with any discrimination for either being black or being adopted.

"Because racism is so ingrained in the fabric of American institutions, it is easily self-perpetuating." True words. Perhaps I wouldn't have seen this two years ago, but I am acutely aware now. As the author describes, most of us think of racism as a vile image of men in white hoods--to be called a racist would be like a punch in the gut. In actuality, racism is a thread through most of our lives--whether we are aware of it or not. In many ways, media is a significant perpetuator of racism--more and more, media defines what is good, bad, beautiful, ugly, right, wrong. I see it in books, magazines, movies, social media, every where. Previously, I might pick up a book or magazine and never notice a lack of diversity or positive images of non-whites. Now, I notice it immediately.

Perhaps I really am naïve, but what torments me the most is why? After almost two years with a black son, I cannot figure out why the fuss over black and white? Our differences are truly miniscule--in actuality, even being non-biologically related, Bren has acclimated to us to the point that nurture is truly outweighing nature. His only differences are colors of skin/hair, hair texture and that he is a better dancer. The similarities are much greater--he talks like us, thinks like us, jokes like us, he has developed the same interests of reading, drawing and sports. Would he have been different in another family? Probably, but not necessarily because of the black and white, but because families are different. 

One of my hopes for my family is that we will touch peoples' lives that perhaps had never considered the issue of race or didn't even realize the choke-hold racism actually has on our society. I hope that people will read what I write and maybe increase their awareness. I do realize that not everyone will be drawn to us--some will see us as too different--I've seen that already, but many people will see beyond our skin. I hope with each life the Wright family touches, we will open doors and minds.

We are Different!

Bren & Me

A few days ago, Aidan told me that she was upset because a boy saw Brendan and me at school and said, "Hey, look at that white mom with a black baby!" I asked Aidan if she responded. She told me that she turned to him and said, "Hey, that's my Mom and my brother." (I am certain there was more attitude in the actual response than was displayed in the re-telling). "Okay, and how did he respond to you?" I inquired (I have learned from years of parenting to have all the information before giving any guidance). Aidan said he replied, "I'm sorry. I'm not racist." So, I asked Aidan what his race was, and she said he was African-American.

I told Aidan that some people really can be mean, but often times, people are just curious. I think this boy was just vocalizing his curiosity about what he saw. I don't think he was trying to be mean in any way. Either way, I let her know that I was super proud that she stood up rather than just pretending she didn't hear what he said.

Bren at Aidan's School

Every transracial family is different. I have heard of ones that do not discuss race at all, but we are absolutely open. Brendan knows his skin is a different color than ours. He has already expressed dislike of his skin color and a realization that "black" is often associated with bad or evil in media. I am a very straight-forward person--I face these issues head-on. I read him lots of books to encourage him to be proud of his race and to be confident in being adopted--any media that portrays differences as positive, I grab onto it!

I feel that the best way to prepare our family for comments of any kind is to talk openly--to be comfortable in our own skin (pun totally intended!). Aidan still struggles to comfortably say the word "black"; she feels it is offensive and whispers it--so we continue to work on that. The best defense we can have if, and more likely when, a truly mean comment is made, is to be knowledgeable, prepared and confident about who we are.

Bren looking dapper for Musical Theatre

By nature, people are curious. As we prepare to move, now to Colorado, we will likely experience more eyes watching us. We have spent a year and a half as a transracial family, and overall, most people here at MacDill, at least on base,  no longer look at us too differently. Going to a new post, we will likely see an influx of curiosity. I know even Bren is starting to notice when people look too long. At Mass this past Sunday I noticed a little girl staring. I looked down at Bren to see he was giving her a "what are you lookin' at?" look in response. Bren is strong; I am certain he will learn to hold his own. But as we all learn to own our identities, I want him to be proud: proud of his race, proud of his story, and proud of his family.

We ARE different. As I tell the kids, "If we were all the same, it would be boring." We sing songs about being different; we read books about being different; we watch episodes of Sesame Street that celebrate differences. We embrace being different, hoping our children will grow up to feel comfortable, confident and loved.

Second to None

Last weekend, Aidan and I watched "First Position". If you aren't familiar with this film, it is an amazing documentary following six dancers as they train for and compete in the Grand Prix, widely considered one of the world's most prestigious ballet competitions. One of the six youth is Michaela DePrince, who was adopted from Sierra Leone by white parents. Michaela's mother discusses how she has to change all the "flesh" colored portions of Michaela's costumes because that is only some people's actual flesh color. She continues to discuss how other dance moms have told her that she is wasting her time because blacks never become ballerinas. She aptly comments, "I don't know if they don't think I love Michaela as much a they do their child because she is adopted or if they are really just that crass." Michaela DePrince is currently a professional ballerina.


Daddy & Baby Airborne Cole Patrick

I am not sure if it is just human instinct, but it is definitely challenging to put yourself in another's shoes if you have not truly walked the journey. For instance, before adopting, I didn't notice "flesh" colored. I didn't notice how many books don't have diverse skin colors, and that cute black dolls are virtually impossible to find. It is fair to say, with my fair-haired, light-skinned children, I was oblivious. Completely.

In the beginning, I was super naïve. I did not protect Brendan's birth story and shared with any one who asked, completely unaware of what I was doing. Our new identity was so sudden I didn't stop to think. I looked at blacks in a whole new way--I must have thought our new son automatically brought me new knowledge. I belonged to a new club, and soon they were going to teach me the secret handshake. No one taught me the secret handshake...I don't even think there is one. About the only thing I did right was realize that yes, I had a new identity. The rest of it I blame on the sheer insanity of being a new adoptive Mom.

Daddy & Little Airborne Bren

I am thankful that I have learned early that it is our family's duty to protect Bren's story. There are people who will use his history to judge him and form preconceived notions him--as much as I am able, I will do all I can to prevent that. Recently, someone said to me, "He probably did that because of his "history'". No. He probably did that because he is a normal, healthy four-year-old boy.

Unfortunately, I don't believe we will ever be able to "hide" from the public the fact that Bren is adopted. We pretty much are a walking advertisement for adoption (and hopefully a positive one). Nonetheless, I am also grateful that we have learned early on the absolute necessity to being his unwavering advocates. I have noticed that there are people who treat Bren as if he is second to our biological children--they probably don't even realize they do it. Like I said earlier, it isn't automatic for us to understand the paths we have not walked. People say things to me about Bren that they would never ever say to me about Aidan or Cole Patrick. Do they think I love him less? I suspect they just don't fully realize.

As Bren grows older or more aware of his differences, we have a responsibility to protect him. Ideally, we will make all the right decisions, and we will surround him with enough love and confidence to outweigh the insensitivities of society. But, realistically, there very well may be a challenging road of figuring it out for all of us, but that just sounds a lot like parenthood! 

As I've said before, I do not believe that God designs children for adoption. I believe God made Bren for his biological parents, but when that didn't work out, we were Plan B. We are not saints; we are not perfect; he is not blessed to have "found" us. Each of us are a blessing to each other. Unlike so many other stories I read on blogs and Facebook, our adoption calling was not exceptional. We did not know from the time that we were 12 years old that we wanted to adopt, and we didn't slide down a rainbow into a barrel full of puppies on our journey to Bren. Like so many others, quite simply, we realized that we had greater capacity for love, and we did something about it. With this said, I blog on our experiences not to rant or to complain or be negative. I pray that I help others to understand a bit more what it is like to walk in these shoes--for all of the adoptive and transracial families out there. Each person makes the difference. When you have the choice to support a family or just look away or worse, judge, I pray you chose to be their friend. I know it sounds cliché, but truly, only by taking the journey together do we learn to respect and understand what makes all of us different.

Phase One: Denial

Lots of journeys have stages: grief, recovery, and yes, PCSing. Now, after fourteen years as an Army wife, the ridiculousness of saying, "Boy, that really came out of left field!" is not lost on me. Yet, that was my first reaction. I thought we were in for the long dreamed about, but never experienced, "easy move" (which, yes, is an oxymoron)...I thought we were just going north a little bit back to North Carolina. Last week when Jason came home and said Colorado is on that table, I was surprised; when Jason came home Tuesday and said Hawaii, well that was completely out of left field.

Now, I will say, Jason should know better by now then to shout after me "It's Hawaii" as I casually ask him if he heard anything on my way out the door for the evening. He knows by now that I have to be gently patted on the head and told I'm pretty before you spring things on me. Okay, so first reaction: wow, that's different, exciting....thirty minutes pass...that's big, scary, isolated, volcanoes, tsunamis, I'm going to die in Hawaii!!! I have officially entered Phase One: Denial.

Now, the denial stage of PCSing can be brief or last months. There are still fingernail marks from 2008 when the Army dragged me from North Carolina to Fort Lewis. ;-) Tuesday night I googled PCSing to Hawaii and the first link I get is this: http://armywife101.com/2010/09/hawaii-one-army-wifes-thoughts-on-why-she-hates-living-here.html. Now, I know I shouldn't read it, but it is like a train wreck...though I can feel my fears taking over, I can't stop reading. Let me say this, "Army Wife", writing negatives on a location is so wrong--so un-Army wife--you are not doing yourself or your fellow wives any favor. We live uniquely challenging lives--if we can't support each other, we are completely lost. It isn't like we have a choice. I have yet to meet an Army wife who said, "Yeah, this move/deployment/etc. just isn't going to work for me," and the Army responded, "Oh, sorry about that. Okay, how about this awesome assignment instead?" That ONLY happens in our dreams.

Wednesday, I woke up full-strength denial mode. Maybe I'll stay behind with the kids, maybe the Army will decide to send us somewhere else, maybe if I don't say the word "Hawaii" we won't get orders. I spend the day with a cloud over my head, a heart that aches and wearing my pity party hat.

Thursday, I am absolutely certain that God is punishing me. This might be a Catholic thing, but yes, we do this crazy guilt thing: I have sinned; I know I have sinned; and now I have to atone. I am being sent to Hawaii because I haven't behaved well. Okay, that sounds completely ridiculous even to say--I can't even type it without laughing, but you get the jist of my complete crazy state-of-mind on Thursday.

By Thursday night, I am starting to realize because I have been an Army wife for fourteen years that I need to embrace this and make this the best, most positive experience possible. We have overcome challenging housing and schools before...we are going to Hawaii, stop bellyaching because my babies depend on my lead to color this move. So, Thursday night as I am driving home I see this guy's shirt,the back says: "Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy bacon, and that's close enough." Wait, I remember that Hawaii was wild boars, bacon right in our back yard...boars=pigs=bacon=happiness! We can have bacon and be happy--this is going to work!! (P.S. IF you followed my logic there, you really should be deeply concerned...)

Denial stage official ends--only two days, not bad for me! ;-)

Friday, on to Phase Two: Acceptance. We are going to Hawaii!!!! Aloha!!

Come Rain or Shine

Our family is currently resting in that uncomfortable spot known as "waiting for orders". Now, waiting for orders is never pleasant, but it is even worse when you don't know where in the world, literally, your orders will take you. This is particularly painful for Type A planners, like yours truly. But, alas, we are at the whim of Uncle Sam, so fussing is pretty much futile. Hopefully, in April, we will know where we head this summer, and then I can begin the planning that I must confess, I do love. Until then, we are in a holding pattern...sigh.

Our efforts to adopt again are pretty much on hold as we wait, too. We are reluctant to move forward until we know what the future holds for our family. We have mulled over so many possibilities in the past few weeks, but until we know a destination, we wait.

As we are watching a number of families adopt from the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo), we are reminded that adoption is a waiting game, too. There are so many starts and stops. Last week, we were at the starting blocks ready to go! Then we had a conference call with the adoption facilitator, and learned that they are becoming an agency because independent adoptions (which we were hoping to pursue) are no longer being allowed as of 2014. Becoming an agency doesn't change any thing per se, but the price increased and the time to complete an adoption in the DRC recently increased. So, again, we step back and re-group a bit.

As we continue to wait and watch at the sidelines, I am intrigued by the families I watch adopt for the first time. I am reminded how naive we were...and likely still are in some ways. I am currently reading a new adoption book entitled, "Come Rain or Come Shine" by Rachel Garlinghouse. What I love about the book is that it is written by a mom--a white parent, who has three black children, and it is tagged "A White Parent's Guide to Adopting and Parenting Black Children." Unlike so many other "experts"on adoption and most of the "authorities" on adoption during our own adoption, who often don't even have adopted or biological children, she is the real deal. She has been there, done that!



Wright Clan at Epcot

First of, she makes me feels like I am not crazy/paranoid. I am not. Really. :-) In the Prologue, she says, "We weren't the couple in the room with the darling newborn--swaddled in a pink blanket--sleeping in her stroller. We were the couple with the brown-skinned, afro-headed, coffee-colored-eyes, darling newborn. The reality is that despite popular pronouncements, the world is not colorblind, prejudice didn't evaporate after the civil rights movement, and being White still comes with many privileges that brown-skinned individuals do not have." She continues to say, "Particularly in the case of transracial adoption, adoptive parents will face scrutiny from both individuals of their own race and of the child's race." Amen! Not amen that this is true, but amen that we are not just imagining this. As Bren became ours, we literally watched as some people distanced themselves from us, some of them college-educated, Christian folks--people we thought were just like us. This is one reason that even as much as we love our life here, we are eager to move to a place where no one ever knew us before Bren was our son. In theory, we will not watch any one drift away and wonder what happened. What you see is what you get.

One wonderful aspect of the military is diversity. I would be remiss if I did not acknowlege the MANY others that wholeheartedly embrace our family and support us. For the most part, people in our lives are extremely open-minded, tolerant to differenes and amazingly supportive. Over Spring Break, we spent some time out and about at various Disney Parks, and we definitely saw some of the ugliness that does still persist in our society, and not just from Americans. At this point it is mostly judging, negative looks. I can tell you without doubt that if you put our adorable 4-year-old son next to any white 4-year-old, most adults will be drawn to the white child. It breaks my heart. As he grows older, it will not improve unless we change our perception of different races, particularly blacks and espcially black males.



Cole Patrick, Aidan and Brendan's Jam Session

As I read further in her book I found a checklist: "You might be a good candidate for transracial adoption if..." followed by several situations. The one that most piqued my interest: "You intend to adopt more than one minority child." Ah, validation! So, I no longer feel so guilty that my primary reason to adopt again is for Brendan to have a sibling that isn't fair-skinned, fair-haired and light-eyed. For some reason, I felt like that was a poor reason to adopt--like getting Bren a puppy. Apparently, that is okay (not the puppy, the sibling! ;-). Not that I am not eager to have one more loud child running through my house, jumping off the furniture and bickering about being touched by another one of the loud children...I am (not). ;-) Really, at the heart of my pull to adopt again is Bren. While I can point out all the ways we match: two eyes, a nose, two legs, a heart, ears, etc. I know a day will come where our ONE difference hurts like hell for him. If adopting a sibling will ease that, I'm in.

I pray that families like ours make a difference in the way races see each other. I hope that we touch lives and continue to evolve in our relatively new position as a transracial family. Soon we will know where we are headed, and we can start again, in so many ways. Only God knows what our future holds. What ever it may be, we plan to embrace it, come rain or shine.





Heart for Adoption

Heart for adoption...I hear people say it all the time, especially, "I don't have a heart for adoption." Well, truth be told, I don't have a heart for adoption. I don't. God called me to adopt. He called me and called me until he carried me when I didn't even know he was carrying me. It is only looking back that I see clearly and know how truly divine our journey was.

In the past year+, I have learned a tremendous amount about myself. I faced darkness I had not known; I found holes where I had thought I was whole. Like "they" say though (whoever they are), that which does not kill you, really does make you stronger. I am definitely stronger than I was before adoption. In the end (er, not really the end I guess), I am not the mom I thought I was. I am not the person I thought I was. We are not the family we were two years ago.

Daddy and Bren's first meeting

I am not close to saintly: I lose my patience, I yell, I judge, I am awkwardly and imperfectly human to the core; I am a sinner, plain and simple. What I do have is a defining sense of right and wrong. My world is often black and white, and often it is that clear to me. There are children in this world not only without families but also without food, shelter, medicine, safety and LOVE. My psyche and I have already had this argument; Jason and I have already had this discussion: we've adopted; we have Bren; we did "our part." Right?

Had I not taken baby steps each time God pushed me closer to His plan the first time around, we probably never would have adopted. Jason never felt particularly "called to adopt", but unlike me, Jason has an undeniable heart for adoption. His love didn't have to grow. He didn't question our journey on a daily basis, as I did. His heart didn't struggle and struggle...and struggle. He is my rock; he is Bren's rock. He is the one who held it together and unconditionally loved while my heart grew to adoption.

It is no surprise that six months ago when I first mentioned I felt the tug to adopt again, Jason looked at me like I had two heads. For a number of reasons, I put it on the back burner. Like the first time we adopted, the feeling does not subside. While the noise of our every day family life can keep it a bay for a while, one thing I know is that when God has a plan for me, He will persist louder than my worries...he will mold my heart to His plan. 

Despite not having a heart for adoption, I have a heart for God's work, for the greater good, for the need to be a part of something much bigger than me. I know there are millions of children out there who need a daddy with Jason's heart and a mama who God is growing each day. I know despite our worries about money, school, family, job, etc., etc., and our human imperfections, that we are truly blessed beyond measure. As long as we can keep giving back, it just seems like the right thing to do.

Keepin' It Real

I never ever considered myself to be racist. Who does? Are there people who actually admit to being racist?? I suppose there are, but I think more people are like me--they see themselves as completely civil and accepting until the day that is challenged.

We adopted a black male because quite frankly black male children are the hardest to place. Never to shy away from a challenge, during our homestudy we said, "We can do that! Bring it!" When Brendan actually moved in, I was not quite the person I had hoped. I struggled: he looked different, he felt different, he smelled different. It didn't come naturally to me like I thought it would. I worried about crazy stuff. I remember one day only a week or two after he moved in actually thinking: "Is it possible he will kill me one day?" I know you are thinking I am crazy--I beat myself up over it. Why am I so uncomfortable? Would I feel the same if it was a white child we adopted? Is it because he is adopted or because he is black or both? I agonized for a long time.

Now, for clarification, I share all these pretty personal details of my thought-process not because I am an over-sharerer and like to make others feel uncomfortable (I do not. Really.). Rather, I really am hoping to help others, especially those close to us or others going through adoption, to understand our challenges as well as our triumphs.

Of all the things I thought I would experience with adoption, it never really occured to me how much I would have to become an advocate--not just for adoption, but for race relations. All those feelings I didn't expect in the beginning helped me to grow to the person I had thought I was all along, and then some. So, this a.m. I asked Jason, "Do you think I am overly sensitive about race?" Without a beat, he responded, "Yes. Absolutely." Now, I get this--Jason and I have two very different approaches to life in general: I am usually the one planning for college while Jason is pretty content that we just kept all three happy and healthy one more day.

Okay, so, yes, I am overly sensitive, let me ask this question a different way. "I saw this on Facebook yesterday, and it infuriates me, do you think I am justified?"

So, me being me, I comment: Hey, this offensive. Okay, some of these are somewhat amusing and certainly may ring true, but first of all: C'mon, just be nice. Blowing out someone else's candle, doesn't make yours burn brighter, people. More importantly, "white girl with 3+ multi-racial children" is offensive and completely inappropriate. Well, the response I got from a "friend's friend" who doesn't know me from Adam, was that I need to just lighten up, afterall, it will be St. Patrick's Day in a few weeks and we will all tell Irish jokes and no ones going to get bent out of shape about that, and then the kicker: I should learn to take a joke, so all my friends don't end up "unfriending" me.

Okay, first of all, if my choice is between not having a friend and having a friend who makes jokes at the expense of others, then I'm okay without friends (we are all adults here, right, this isn't high school any more...) My being bothered by this post only grew more after such a response from what I do assume is an educated person. Really? There IS a responsibility that comes with social media. This bingo sheet clearly paints multi-racial children/families as a negative. I don't believe I am reading into that in any way. If you perpetuate (aka, "share") that, you most certainly do have responsibility to it.

I do think that I can take a joke: humor is a key component to making it through each day because, believe me, the insensitivity and racism isn't confined to Facebook. When we started our adoption journey, we thought we were being led to give a family to a child. We didn't realize the responsibility we would take on in being an advocate for Bren, multi-racial families, transracial adoptions and pretty much any one who looks different. That, we absolutely do take seriously.