The following is a re-blog from Claudia over at My fascinating life. Claudia is an Aussie mom living in the UK who adopted Ethopian children. She’s testament to the fact that if you provide us with insightful commentary on our posts, we might go over to your blog and find things we’d like to bring home with us.
I’ve made a decision – the next person to ask me whether I need to put suncream on the babies is getting a punch in the mouth. I’m not quite sure why this is every white person’s ‘go-to’ question about raising black children, but that seems to be the case. Like if they suddenly found themselves in my shoes, it wouldn’t matter if the child grew up totally unsure about their identity, where to fit in, lacking any positive black role models and looking down the barrel of casual racism every day; that would be fine, but heaven forfend the baby should get sunburned.
I know I’m overreacting about that particular question, and if anybody I know in real life is reading this then they are definitely going to be offended, because I’m pretty sure that every single white person I know has asked me this question since the sun came out here, about two weeks ago. And I do take sun safety very seriously. And on one level, it’s fine that people ask me this. It’s sunny, we’re at the park, they’re slapping the suncream on their kids, it’s a reasonable question. And I prefer curiosity to someone saying ‘oh, seriously, your child isn’t white? I didn’t notice! Because we’re all the same on the inside!’ But sometimes, this question, and others like it, (‘what do you do with their hair?‘) can make me feel really uncomfortable, and I don’t quite know what to do.
I think I’ve almost figured out how to deal with conversations that are openly racist, or, more commonly, just plain ignorant. No matter who, no matter where, don’t let it slide, ever. Challenge. Disagree. Not just when it’s a conversation about people who share the same colour skin as my children, but anything racist, all the time. Zero tolerance. There’s a lot of stuff that I used to let slip by me, but now – no way. I’m acutely aware that many adult adoptees say their parents weren’t active enough as their anti-racist advocates, particularly with extended family, and those of us who have had the opportunity to learn from their experience have NO excuse if the same is said about us.
But I find this kind of thing much harder. It’s not a racist question. It’s not even a particularly stupid question. But it makes me prickle. I think that what upsets me is this. I get the distinct impression that some of my white friends ask me questions about my black babies that they would never ask if I was a black mother. Or at least, ask them in a way that they wouldn’t ask a black mother. This is difficult to articulate, but I feel like there is an unspoken assumption that we belong to the same club, they and I, a club to which my children do not belong. And that our sameness means that it’s okay – indeed, expected – for us to share information and experiences about our encounters with those who are not the same. Even, in my case, if those who aren’t the same are also my children. We all know that the first rule of White Club is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT WHITE CLUB, so none of this would ever be said out loud. But honestly, in some conversations it is palpable.
It feels similar to what I experienced when I moved to the UK from Australia. When I came across other Australians, we would always form a huddle and complain about the same things – usually the price of food, how cold it was, how long it was since we’d seen the sun and the impossibility of really getting to know anyone properly. Then we would tell stories about Rude English People I Have Met, and What They Said To Me. It was comforting. But time went on, and something changed. I began to feel at home here. I worked out how to navigate the supermarket, bought a decent coat, resigned myself to a lifetime of Seasonal Affective Disorder and made some friends. My accent was Australian (and it still is) but I didn’t feel quite so partisan anymore. I began to feel that at least part of me was becoming British. And then the moaning sessions weren’t quite so welcome. When people would hear my voice, and then want to talk about what was wrong with the UK, I kept finding myself thinking ‘what makes you think I’m on YOUR side in this conversation?’
And that’s how I keep feeling now. White people see my skin, and I think it makes them think that I’m on their side. I’m not going to go down the ‘now that I have Ethiopian children, I consider myself to be Ethiopian too’, road, because I think that’s a pile of horse manure. I’m still white, I’ll always be white, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But that doesn’t mean I’m on their side.
It does feel, sometimes, like people view my children as educational toys. They’re a safe, easy way to learn about black people. You know, without actually having to talk to a black person. And I get frustrated, because my children are not a bridge. They do not have a responsibility to my friends to link all the colours of the world into a complacent little circle. And they are not objects; curiosities to be examined. They are their own selves, with their own complicated histories, and neither they nor I owe my friends any information about their skincare regime. I think that sometimes people are wanting some kind of inside scoop – for me to go into detail about how hard it is to care for such ‘difficult’ hair or skin, but it’s just not going to happen. They aren’t entitled to that information, even if it was the case. I am not on their side.
But sometimes it’s a hard balance. Because sometimes I ask myself – are these the opportunities I’ve been waiting for? Is the problem not too many questions about their skin, but too few? I think most of us can agree that a fake-o ‘colourblind’ approach to life doesn’t do our children any favours. And I wish that I could have more frank discussions with my white friends about race, not fewer. But I want them to be real. Surely the really important issues around skin are privilege and prejudice, not, well, skin. I want to talk about how we approach our own whiteness, before talking about anybody else’s blackness. I don’t really know how those conversations would sound, but I’m sure they wouldn’t just be about sun safety or hair products. I hate that I am still so bad at making those conversations happen.
So, back to the sun cream. Mostly, when sun cream comes up, I say ‘Well! The babies take longer to burn than a very pale baby, but they will still burn. I do put sun cream on them, but we don’t need it if they’re only going to be outside for a little while. We have suncream that smells like coconut. Doesn’t their skin smell delicious? What type of suncream do YOU use?’ And questions about hair get ‘isn’t their hair BEAUTIFUL? I just can’t wait until her hair is long enough to braid. Do you think your little Susie’s hair is going to stay blonde?’ And none of this is going to set the world on fire, and sometimes I wish I could have the courage to be a lot ruder, but for now, for questions that aren’t outright impolite, I’ve decided to stick with simple answers that affirm my children and then move swiftly on.
All of this feels almost impossible to write about, because I’m so painfully aware of how little I know. And maybe my approach is wrong – maybe I’m reading too much into comments that are totally innocent, or maybe the reverse is happening and I’m ignoring something really big, and I should be… well, I don’t know. And of course some of my friends don’t do anything like this, and I need to remember that I never used to care about race until I realised that it was going to affect my family. So I’d better not climb too high onto my high horse, or I’m liable to fall off. This is all really hard. I know I’m making mistakes. I hope I’ll be willing to learn from them. But whatever happens, I hope the babies always know that I am on their side.
I love this, Claudia. I mean, I want to put it on the world’s biggest t-shirt and wear it. You’re so honest and inspiring (yes, you really are!), particularly for someone like me who cares so much about adoption yet is frequently so pissed off about the way people talk about it. I wish I could get every prospective adoptive parent who is considering intercountry/transracial adoption to read this post. And I have no doubt your kids will always know you’re on their side!
Thank you so much for letting us repost this here.
I echo Nikki’s thanks. We’re still early on in raising our family and we are interested in transracial adoption, but often feel a little daunted by the mistakes of our peers and predecessors. It’s good to read about parents working to do it better and who are actively cultivating awareness on these issues. My only regret is that you live across the pond! But I suppose the Brits need as much help as we do on this. ;)
A third voice echoing thanks! Truly fantastic post.
You are totally welcome!! I’ve only just seen that this has been posted (away for a wedding this weekend) – it looks so much more interesting in a different font :)
Cayce, I absolutely know what you mean about being daunted by the mistakes of our peers and predecessors. The worst part is knowing that I’m making my own, too, and half the time I dont’ even know when I’m doing it! For me, my adoption education has really paralleled my racial education – I’ve had to learn a lot of humility and accept that I’m part of something that has done some awful, awful things. And while I didn’t, personally, do any of them, I’m still a part of them, and need to take some kind of joint responsibility for them.
I keep thinking that one day, I’ll reach a point in my life where I don’t need to keep learning more and more humility. But on current trends, I suspect it’s a way off!
I have it a little easier because my husband has dark skin so he’s had a lifetime of ridiculous questions. My son is Jamaican-Canadian so we get a lot of hair questions and sunscreen questions as well (if it’s just me). And of course, the where is he from question (or worse, where did you GET HIM?).
Lately, I’ve decided to answer every question with a question instead so I can throw the discomfort back in their court.
Everything from me is -> Why do you ask? No seriously, WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?
The other day someone asked where my son came from and my friend yelled, “The same place all babies come from!” It was so funny. We coould not stop laughing.
Where did you get HIM?
This just makes me sad. So much of that has to do with how we tend to commodify all children, but particularly children of color.
Grr.
The comment from your friend reminds me of a brilliant line in ‘does anybody look like me’, about multiracial kids. The woman is so sick of being asked ‘where did you get them’ that she finally answers: “Out of my UTERUS!” Cracked me up.
So … I have a friend who adopted a black baby. And I think I’ve probably asked questions like this, mostly because I’ve never interacted with black women with babies. I’ve always lived in “white America”. I didn’t realize that my questions were perceived as racist or rude – I asked them because I was curious. Reading your post made me think about my motivations, and the impact of my questions on my friend. Thanks.
Nancy- thanks for sharing. One of our goals here is for folks to consider new perspectives and for those of us who have made missteps in the past (which, I think includes all of us, frankly) to make corrections going forward and seek forgiveness if we’ve hurt others or misunderstood them.
You’ve made a great point saying, “I’ve always lived in “white America”. I didn’t realize that my questions were perceived as racist or rude….” This is a good example of how white privilege hurts WHITE people. It can make us oblivious to the needs of others and cause us to walk through the world in such a way that people of color are compelled to accommodate our ignorance. This can be very problematic in forming relationships and friendships across racial lines (or as Claudia pointed out, even among white friends working towards anti-racist ends).
I think you’ll find many people have shared your experience and that even while there is justifiable frustration for parents like Claudia, there’s also often grace for friends who are genuinely trying to get it right.
those of us who have made missteps in the past (which, I think includes all of us, frankly)
It definitely includes me!
yeah, and me, absolutely!!
Nancy, I think part of the frustration I feel is that these are the ONLY questions anybody ever asks about race. It’s all totally trivial – I don’t feel like most people are interested at all in the realities of what it means for my babies’ lives.
And I should also say that I have a few friends who have been absolutely amazing – one in particular is a fantastic ally. I probably didn’t make that clear enough in the original post.
Nancy, I don’t know if I would say questions like that are racist, but depending on your relationship with the person you’re asking, they can be rude and are frequently “privileged.” To paraphrase Tim Wise, the very fact that you have always lived in a “White America” is not an accident. While it’s understandable that you may be curious about such things because your experience with racial others is limited, and your intentions are not malicious, those of us with multiracial or transracially adopted children are often expected to satisfy the curiosity of others every time we go out in public. After a while, it can start to feel like that’s how the world defines us. I’ll be the first to admit that when I was a young mother with new baby and a little unsure how the world was going to react to us, I basked in the unsolicited petting and personal questions from complete strangers in the checkout line of the grocery store as a sign of acceptance. By the time my oldest was four, I was over having every trip to Target becoming a Q&A session, and just wanted to get some darn toilet peper and be on my way.
Yes, and apart from making adoptive parents uncomfortable and disrupting their public outings with their children, it’s no picnic for the kids, either. People would ask my parents the most intrusive things right in front of me, speaking as if I wasn’t even there. I may have been young at the time (grade school), but I was definitely old enough to understand that we were being singled out as a transracial adoptive family and asked some pretty personal questions, and I always hated it.
I had a long reply, lost it, and now my laptop battery is almost dead. I’ll be back to comment later on, but I’ve experienced the same thing and written about it myself. You’re not overreacting, and the “zooing” your family is experiencing isn’t acceptable, regardless of the intent of the person(s) doing it.
Do come back with your comment!
Wow…thanks for giving us something to think about – I always value the chance to see from another’s perspective. It sounds like you are doing an amazing job as a mother.
If I knew you, I would TOTALLY have asked that question of you. But, I also asked it of my African-American friend and the Mother I lived with in India and my next-door-neighbor from Mexico. Its just interesting to me because my skin burns in less than 10 minutes and I wonder what it would be like for that not to happen.
It can be hard knowing what to say – when you really do have diversity in your friendship and you really want to learn how to do it right, but everyone is sensitive to different things. It can be paralyzing – at least for me.
Thanks again for sharing your perspective on it.
It can be hard knowing what to say – when you really do have diversity in your friendship and you really want to learn how to do it right, but everyone is sensitive to different things. It can be paralyzing – at least for me.
This is a common sentiment in the white community, and I know I have had similar feelings, but it is also a hallmark of white privilege. We’ve talked a little before on the blog about how well-intentioned white people can be hurt when, in every best effort to obey the “rules” of political correctness, we find ourselves frustrated by the “sensitivity” of people of color. The script can often go, “don’t they know I’m not one of those bad white people? What’s wrong with a little curiosity about hair or whathaveyou? I wouldn’t mind if they asked me about it.”
The truth of it is, “they” wouldn’t have to ask “us” about any of that. Our hair commercials are everywhere. So are our Today show segments on makeovers, skin care tips, etc. We swim in white culture and don’t even “see” it most of the time. And our bald curiosity, while genuine and well-meaning, are often rightly seen as gestures that reinforce the “otherness” of people of color. That’s why the term “zooing” is used a lot. It gets to the heart of what curiosity feels like on the receiving end.
I have lots of experience with this as a white trespasser, but I also have been the object of curiosity because of physical disability (as a child and as an adult). While in most cases, I’m tolerant of questions, especially when I have the sense that right motives and wrong words are in play, it would be nice from time to time as other commenters have said, ifcuriosity could be satisfied by going home and Googling whatever it is you want to know about my condition. At the very least, I’ve been most pleased when someone unsure of how to maneuver says something like, “I really care about you and I’m a total verbal klutz, but do you mind I ask you about X so that I don’t go through life completely ignorant of this fact and hurt someone with my curiosity?”
oh yeah, anybody who says:
“I really care about you and I’m a total verbal klutz, but do you mind I ask you about X so that I don’t go through life completely ignorant of this fact and hurt someone with my curiosity?”
can ask me ANYTHING they like.
If I’m curious about X, Y, or Z, I don’t approach complete strangers in the grocery store & ask them personal questions. That’s what the internet is for. I’ve found that “Why do you ask?” is very effective because it forces the asker to examine their motives for prying into the intimate details of the lives of complete strangers. On the other hand, when a woman I just met at a birthday party asked me what I use for my girls’ hair because she had a neice whose hair was in really bad shape and wanted to pass along a suggestion to her sister in law, I was thrilled to talk hair. I think that if you don’t know what my name is, you should have a stronger reason than idle curiosity before you interrupt my day… save it till you get home, and ask Google.
I’ve been asked, on more than one occasion, “What are they.” I used to think I was overreacting, but as my children grew older and I saw how this zooing was affecting them, I stopped worrying about whether the well intentioned white people’s feelings got hurt if I checked them for invading my beige/brown babies’ physical space or privacy. I did a lot of reading & reflection and worked really hard to see these interactions through the eyes of my children. I don’t like to drop links in comments, but I’ve got some essays I’ve written on wordpress under the tag of “zooing” that link back to a few great books and articles, and there’s also a page called mixed myths on my blog that has articles & videos from people who say it much better than me if anyone is looking for additional resources.
Well, I’m not worried about links. ;) Feel free to include whatever you think is helpful. A quick jog over to your blog helped me find this gem: http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/2006/07/23/what-are-they/
*smiles* You may be sorry you said that ;)
What are they? was the first really comprehensive, I guess, post I wrote about this topic. It was something I’d been struggling with for a while and was the primary reason I moved to a historically Black neighborhood eight years ago, but it wasn’t until I got Hate Hurts that I really had the language to verbalize what we were experiencing. It’s from there that I went searching for more resources and started to tie what I already knew about whitness & allyship into my parenting in (what I hope) is a more meaningful way.
I wrote a follow up with thoughts about how to handle such questions http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/2006/09/18/what-are-they-follow-up/ and then another that gets more into how those questions can affect children over time, especially after they enter school and have to field questions like these on their own, based on what I was seeing with my (then) 10 and 7 yo children http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/2006/09/22/the-objectification-of-multiracial-youth/.
As you can see, those are all about four years old… more recently, I’m writing about the objectification and sexualization of multiracial tweens/teens as well as my role in all this (the posts above and these can all be found under http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/category/beautifully-blended/does-anybody-look-like-me/ and there are some good resources on http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/mixed-myths/, http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/anti-racist-white-allies-101/, and some of my favorite youtube videos are here http://curlykidz.wordpress.com/white-privilege/
That’s what the internet is for.
HA. Exactly.
[…] My Children Are Not Educational Toys via Irene’s Daughters by cayce on 9/10/10 […]
Thank you for re-posting this. It was incredibly to read. There is so much misunderstanding when it comes to issues of race. The “White Club” — yes, perfect. I’ve passed this along to a few friends. Thanks again.
Thank you, Melody!
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