On Privilege and Responsibility

This is a post in response to the Anti-Racist Parent column, Is Privilege Offensive?

Privilege is absolutely not offensive. Scary to talk or think about? Yes, it can be. For many of us who have to talk to our kids about the high level of privilege our family experiences, it involves telling them about people who are just like them/us who do not have some of the basics that our kids often take for granted: food, shelter, parents, clothes, band-aids, heat, diapers, and the more complicated stuff like a fair trial, a fair chance in college admissions, or equal opportunities to create a livable existence for themselves and their families. If some people are underprivileged, that makes the rest of us overprivileged.

We talk about privilege in our family, with our children, all the time, although we don’t always use that exact word. We talk about my and my partner’s beliefs about the equality of all people, and also about the resources, choices, and opportunities our family (and our kids) have that are unfairly available to only a select a group of people. It can be hard to talk with children about the lack of privilege others are experiencing daily, especially when it manifests as extreme poverty, but I believe we as parents must do it anyway.

Imagine this: Three people are in a 100 meter race. The first person is standing relaxed at the starting line, stretching and waiting for the race to begin. One minute before the race begins, the second person arrives (panting) at the starting line. As the starting shot is fired, the third person runs up–and the three racers are off. The first (waiting, relaxed) person wins the 100 meter race–but not by much. Now, does it change anything to know that the second person had to run 100 meters directly before this race, and the third person had to run 400 meters right before the race? Is the first person the fastest runner? Is the first person truly the winner? Is it a ‘fair race’ if we only take into account that final 100 meter distance that all three runners were required to participate in? This story (that I’ve read in different forms many places) illustrates how privilege works. If you imagine the race from each runner’s perspective, this story also shows how difficult it can be to see (and understand) the other runners’ viewpoints.

I do not want my kids to grow up thinking they are simply ‘lucky’ and other kids are ‘unlucky’. It’s definitely not that simple. There are individual and institutional daily choices being made (as they have been for hundreds of years) that consistently privilege certain groups of people above others. People are privileged based on race (both perceived and actual), skin tone, gender, sexuality, religion, income, education, marital status, and physical ability, to name some of the most common factors.

I believe those of us who find ourselves more privileged in this world do owe something to those who are less privileged. I often wonder what would happen if we each did all we could for those who–for whatever reasons–have less privilege today than we do. What does true activism look like? Is it enough to speak out against offensive jokes and comments, to be an anti-racist parent, and to purchase a cartful of groceries for the food-shelf once a month? Can I expect the world to change if I am not working towards that change myself? Can I expect someone else to step up and do something I myself am unwilling to do?

Note on those ‘Got Privilege?’ t-shirts: I first saw one worn by a new friend I met at the Loving Conference last year (and yeah, I still want one). My friend is White. The majority of people I have met who have been to the White Privilege Conference are White. (I originally thought it was a conference for White people.) So my frame of reference for the shirts is a bit different because I initially met and pictured White people wearing them. I think those t-shirts are great, by the way. They are for anyone–of any race–to wear, anyone who is aware of their own privilege(s). I see these shirts as similar in message to the ‘Don’t assume I’m White’ t-shirts, worn by both PoC and White persons alike. The point is not whether the person wearing the shirt is or is not White–the point is to get people thinking about their racial assumptions. And the ‘Got Privilege?’ shirt is to get people thinking about privilege, hopefully about their own.

What Are You?

I have heard this question in my life more times than I care to, and I know that for my children–one in particular–this line of questioning has just begun. I have a pocketful of pre-formed answers, responses designed to catch the questioner off guard, to get them to examine their own assumptions, and to (sometimes) get out of answering the question all together. The problem for me–and for many others, I suspect–is that when an adult singles out one of my children and asks me, “What are they?” I know what the questioner means.

I am better–and more practised–at fielding and deflecting such questions from White parents/adults. When the questioner is an adult of color, I slip a little. When the questioner is another parent of color, I’ve already let my guard down a bit. With a Black parent of color standing alongside their young daughter, I have to admit–I am not expecting this question. I am also not going to call out this person I’ve just met, possibly embarrass them or make them look dumb, in front of their child.

When I was introduced to this particular questioner by a mutual acquaintance (that made all three of us adults of color at this event standing together) I was holding Teri. I was grateful I had brushed out, re-parted, and re-styled her hair that morning. The one thing this person said to me about Teri was that I have to ‘get her used to sitting for long periods of time because of her hair texture’ (don’t I already know it). This was not said in a complimentary way about Teri’s beautiful hair, even though this parent’s child has a similar hair texture. Then Jaja arrived, practically wordless, clinging to my legs (as she always does around strangers). My new acquaintance practically glowed in her presence. Thankfully, Jaja quickly skipped off to play near Dad with Gretel and a friend–and that’s when the questions began.

First, the adoption questions. I offered only, “We have two domestic open adoptions. We know and see our children’s birthparents. We were there on the days they were born.” (Yes, I know, to those of you who know our full stories this is a slight exaggeration–Teri was four days old when we met her–but I was going for the short version at this point. I was beginning to see where these questions were going.)

My answers to the adoption questions (which included some version of the ‘where are they from?’ question) did not give the information that was really being sought. Which brought on, “What is she?” There was no mistaking which ’she’ we were talking about; Teri (still on my hip) hadn’t been offered a second glance. Still, I played a little dumb (I do after all have three daughters). I refocused on my children as a group. “All my kids are multiracial,” I answered. “So am I.” I was just about to start in on the ‘We have Black, White, and Cherokee heritage in our family . . .’ when I was stopped.

“What is she?” the questioner repeated, pointing across the grass at Jaja.

I sighed. I knew what this person was asking. They were not asking if my child is human. They were not asking about her gender. They were not asking about her ‘nationality’ (As usual, that one had been covered with the, “Where is she from?”) I caved. “She’s biracial. She’s Black and White.” I said.

“She doesn’t look it,” this Black parent responded.

Do you know any biracial kids? I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth closed.

With their daughter standing right next to them, this parent went on. “She [Jaja] is so beautiful. She looks like a little doll.” I had pretty much tuned out at this point. I excused myself (with four young children, there’s always an excuse) and walked away. I was disappointed. I had been excited to meet another parent of color in my community.

There are a couple things I want to point out here: (1) I never would have even let this line of questioning begin had any of my three older kids been within 15 feet, (2) Teri and Jaja have almost the same skin tone, also very similar to the skin tone of the questioner’s daughter, and (3) All four of my kids are physically striking–they get complimented on it all the time–in completely different ways (bragging mom here, sorry).

The questions and comments about Jaja–which, unfortunately are not going to stop any time soon–are because few people can racially place her. (Although in cities with large Black and White populations–Philly, St. Louis, D.C., for example–Black/African American moms seem to know that Jaja is multiracial, that she has Black ancestors. The same thing can’t be said for White moms in the same cities. We got the most inane comment ever from a White mom in Philly, who said Jaja looked ‘island-y’. My husband reported this comment back to me. “I wanted to ask, ‘which island?’” he said to me. Perhaps racial segregation–including isolated parents of color in my current community–is a big piece of the story.)

My oldest daughter has medium brown skin. Her smooth dark brown hair gently curls. Her facial features are a complete blend of her birthparents’ faces; she looks so much like both of them. This racially-defining question, and all its accompanying baggage, is something she will likely have to deal with her entire life. Unlike her three younger siblings, she is not easily racially stereotyped/categorized by a combination of visual factors, primarily skin tone and hair texture. Rico, Gretel, and Teri will have a similar experience to mine (in this one way): they will have the option to ‘out’ themselves as multiracial, when and if they choose to. But they are unlikely to be questioned or challenged about their racial ancestry based on their physical appearances.

The comments that really get me are the ones after people ask an inappropriate question about my own or my child’s racial heritage, surprise or weasel me into answering their question, and then say I’m wrong or lying. I want to be able to answer these questions about my family’s racial heritage without feeling that I am violating some sacred trust, without feeling as though I am talking about my sex life or my spiritual beliefs or my children’s birthmarks–with a virtual stranger. I want to normalize the multiracial experience, for multiracial families and multiracial individuals. I want people–this person–to know that multiracial people come in all colors and shapes and forms. That we don’t all look alike (anymore than two people of similar racial heritage look alike). And that saying “You don’t look like what you are,” is one of the most dismissive, condescending things someone could say to a multiracial person.

Why I Do This

I recieved an email from a college student last week. With the author’s permission, I share most of it here with you all:

Subject: thank you–from a confused adult/child : )

Hello, I just stumbled upon your site from racialicious and I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve written here. I’m coming up on my 21st birthday and all I can really seem to think about is: “Is it okay for me to say I’m multi-racial?” I grew up knowing that I was a Black kid. I also grew up knowing that I was descended from slaves–that I was African, Irish, Native American, and Chinese. None of those things seemed at odds with each other until I came to college. Now I think that I can only say I’m “mixed” if my parents identify as two different races. Now I feel like it’s my duty to denounce the “mixed” multi-racial identity…even if it’s something I experience daily from the stares to the “what are you’s?” to the “how is that your last name?”…blech.

So your post about how you became confident in your self-identification as a Person of Color gives me a lot of hope. It didn’t really answer any questions for me (in fact it gave me more!) But now I feel like I have something to look forward to. That, one day, I’ll be able to choose an identity I feel comfortable with. And that I really feel represents who I am.

So again, thank you. What you do with this blog (and in your life) is truly beautiful.

Reform the Whole System

There has been a lot of internet chatter, especially on the blogs I visit, about the newly recommended  changes to the MultiEthnic Placement Act (MEPA). The report, and the myriad of media articles and interviews that followed, have offered few new insights (for me)–but I was grateful to hear that the New York Times article really spoke to the parents in a family I know. They are now looking into moving to a racially diverse community for the sake of their transracially adopted children.

I received several phone calls last week from friends and family members letting me know that National Public Radio was holding a call-in show about transracial adoption. (I caught only a moment of one mother talking about ‘doing her tenth adoption,’ and how her kids were ‘voting on whether they should get a chocolate baby or a vanilla one, or one that was both’. Call-in shows are always dicey on what you’re going to hear, but I had to turn it off after that.) One of my family members listened to the whole show and then wanted to know what I thought about requiring additional training for transracially adopting parents (specifically White parents adopting Black kids out of foster care), since one of the ‘adoption experts’ on NPR said adding training requirements only left more Black kids in foster care longer. Let me be clear: I am all for special/additional training for potential transracially adoptive parents. Kids don’t just need to ‘get out of foster care into adoptive homes’; if they absolutely cannot be placed with anyone in their biological family, children in foster care need to move into permanent families with prepared parents.

Adoptive parenting is more complex than parenting birth children. Transracially adoptive parenting is an additional layer of complexity. White people/parents in particular have not often considered many of the race and racism-related issues that will be crucial to the growth and development of a child of color. If White potential adoptive parents balk at additional training before a Black child is even in their home, is there any reason to believe these same parents will be willing or able to rise to the multiple unforeseen challenges (both related and unrelated to race) that their family will face after their child is home?

Adults who become parents completely on purpose (which includes all non-relative adoptive parents) hold total responsibility to do everything they can upfront (before a child arrives in their family) to prepare for the new experiences this particular child will bring with them. This includes everything about the child, especially things the parent is unfamiliar with: medical conditions, abuse history, health issues, physical or educational disabilities, cultural practices, and–yes–racial differences. Growing up Black in the United States is not the same as growing up White, and White potential adoptive parents must realize that an additional session of training is the very least they can do to begin to educate themselves about the experiences of their soon-to-be child.

The articles I’ve been reading that most interest me speak to the larger issue of why there are so many children in foster care and in need of adoptive families. These articles begin to tackle the huge sticky overlapping topics of racism and poverty–specifically as they relate to adoption and to foster care. Check out the articles and blog posts linked below. There are lot of great thinkers writing right now on all aspects of transracial adoption. I’ve included a key paragraph or two from each piece.

• Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute Policy Brief on Finding Families for African American Children: The Role of Race and Law in Adoption from Foster Care:

While transracial adoptions can provide much-needed homes for boys and girls who may not otherwise have them, it is important to address the potential challenges in this growing practice in order to best serve everyone involved, especially the children.

In order for children of color to be placed with families who can meet their long-term needs, consideration must be given to needs arising from racial/ethnic differences. Consequently, when workers choose permanent families for children, and when they seek to prepare and support them in addressing the children’s needs, race must be one consideration - such as promoting connection of the child to adults and children from their own racial/ethnic group, developing a positive racial/ethnic identity, and learning to deal with discrimination they may experience. Sound social work practice to accomplish these goals is severely impeded under current federal law and policy.

• New York Times article De-Emphasis on Race in Adoption is Criticized:

Minority children adopted into white households face special challenges and white parents need preparation and training for what might lie ahead.

Transracial adoption itself does not produce psychological or other social problems in children, but these children often face major challenges as the only person of color in an all-white environment, trying to cope with being different.

• Peter’s Cross Station post Asking the Wrong Question:

Ironically, one of the most important things white parents of Black children need to understand is the racism that put their children in their arms. To parent a Black child, you must look that racism square in the face, see that you have profited incalculably from it and swear to fight it with all your strength for the rest of your life; to do everything in your power to create a world in which a child such as yours would never again need to end up in arms such as yours.

• Resist Racism post Considerations of Race & comment (#10, by panracial on May 28):

I encourage all people adopting from foster care to adopt the least adoptable children that they could love unconditionally - children with real special needs, sibling groups (including half siblings), teen children (including very old teens), children with behavioral problems, complex histories, or who have been abused or neglected (even severely), and black boys who are the least picked (regardless of other factors and especially if their complexions are dark) are most in need of homes. I encourage people not to automatically adopt a five year old biracial girls - chances are, if you don’t adopt them someone else will, but the teen black brothers may never get picked if you don’t offer them a home.

• Feministe post Too Poor to Parent (emphasis is mine):

All of my white-girl middle-class solutions don’t work across the board. Yes, contraception access is crucial - but it’s not going to stop a teenage girl who wants to get pregnant because for her, it’s the best option. Yes, it’s better for everyone to have health care, wholesome food, and a good education with every opportunity in the world available to them - but that isn’t reality, and until it is, we can’t be blaming individuals who are doing the best they can with all the odds stacked against them.

Children are not objects of privilege that only the rich are entitled to. Women who are good, loving moms but who can’t afford certain luxuries - or even certain basics - don’t deserve to suffer the burden of our societal failures.

• Harlow’s Monkey post What I Was Trying to Say:

We/they/all of us need to look at the underlying reasons why children are parent-less and maybe that preventative part makes us overwhelmed. We might feel we can’t eliminate poverty, or war. We can’t control natural disasters. We aren’t able to cure AIDS. We haven’t gotten rid of chemical dependency or mental illnesses. But we can take in a child - that much we can do.

• Multi-Ethnic Placement Act(MEPA): full text, including the InterEthnic provision of 1996, MEPA Internal Evaluation Instrument, and Protection from Racial Discrimination in Adoption and Foster Care

Blog Names

I’ve received several comments lately (including one from a guy named Jaja) asking about the kids’ blog names. For all of you out there wondering: these are not my children’s real names. My kids have unusual names in real life, enough so that I want to protect their names for them to create their own online-presence in the future (if they want to) without a direct link to their mom and stories of their childhood. Each of their blog names (somehow my partner still doesn’t have one) has a story that goes along with it.

Jaja is one of three made-up friends’ names my oldest daughter used for most of her preschool years. The other two friends’ names are equally original–just impossible to phonetically spell. Jaja is my favorite blog name because it unique; it is a story that completely belongs to my daughter.

Rico comes from ‘Rico Sloppy’ a.k.a. ‘Rico Suave’. Remember the Gerardo song? A few years ago, my son misheard someone, and ‘Rico Sloppy’ was born. My son was going through a period of extreme silliness at the time. When people would ask him what his name was, he’d get this wild grin and announce, “Rico!” or sometimes he’d yell his answer, and then it would be, “RICO! SLOPPY!”

Gretel is from my middle daughter’s period of extreme love of The Sound of Music(there is also an alternative spelling of ‘Gretl’). All the kids pretended to be characters from the movie every day. My husband and I were called ‘Maria’ and ‘Captain’. Rico and Jaja switched around their roles; they’d be Rolf, then Friedrich, then Captain, Liesl, then Maria, then Baroness Schraeder. My middle daughter was always Gretel. Always. For a few weeks she wanted us to call her Gretel, even at meals. We listened to endless repeats of ‘So Long, Farewell’, ending with our Gretel scooting backwards up the stairs squeakily singing, “The sun has gone to bed, and so must I.”

Teri is related to my youngest daughter’s voice. She has always been vocal. And loud. If she’s happy, you know it. If she’s upset, excited, frustrated, angry, sad, you know. If she really needs something or is truly hurt, there is no mistaking or missing it–she is super-loud. Teri spoke full sentences at 18 months, and now a year later she makes and understands jokes–all day long. She says, “I changed my mind,” and means it. She also makes tiger growls, dinosaur roars, and indescribable ‘monster’ noises. The name Teri comes from Pterodactyl (I guess it should be ‘Pteri’, but I thought that would be too confusing to pronounce), from a time when our youngest was making lots and lots of joyous screaming/screeching noises.