I fear my kids growing up. I do. Will they be safe? Will they be healthy? Will they find their passion? Will they make good decisions? Will their mistakes be minor enough to climb back from? The world is a scary place. Growing up is hard. To say I’m not fearful of all that could happen in their worlds would be a lie.
Last March, my daughter turned one. She had started to show an interest in babies and puppies and all things cute and cuddly. So for my sweet little girl, I decided to get her her very own baby doll. My budget took me to Target. My older two children are boys, so the pink and sparkly aisle had alluded me for years. I was excited to finally have a reason to peruse. Do they still make Cabbage Patch dolls? How many different kinds of dolls do they have now? Will Brooklynn cut her doll’s hair like I did?
Upon arriving in the pink and sparkly doll aisle, I passed over the Barbies and anything that looked breakable. Yes, Cabbage Patch Kids! But I wasn’t ready to pay for them yet. Finally, I found a baby doll that would be perfect for my one-year-old. As I reached for the doll, I froze.
Do I get her the black doll or the white doll?
During my undergraduate and graduate studies in education, I read and researched a lot on multi-cultural education. To me, diversity was always important. I learned that children need to see themselves in books in order to feel as though they belong. When I became a teacher, I remembered this and worked really hard to find all types of diversified media to bring into the classroom. It wasn’t easy. Lots of books with non-white characters focus on the issue of being that ethnicity, as opposed to just a little girl having a party.
I thought of the books in my daughter’s collection. Fancy Nancy. Pinkalicious. Ladybug Girl. Disney princess after Disney princess. White. White. White. White. In that moment, my fear skyrocketed for my daughter. She’ll never see herself in books. She’ll never have a doll that looks just like her. She’ll never feel like she’s “right.”
My daughter is neither white nor black. She’s both. My daughter is mixed. She is biracial. To be more scientific, she is 75 percent white and 25 percent black, and even 1/16 Native American. My daughter may have fair skin, strawberry blonde hair, and eyes that mix greens, blues, and browns, but she is black just as much as she is white. I think she’s perfect. I KNOW she’s beautiful. But will she?
My parents often told me a story of a time when I was little. We were watching the ISU versus Iowa wrestling match. During the match, I asked, “Who are we, the black guy or the red guy?” Through my childhood lenses, I saw a black uniform and a red uniform. My parents thought that was pretty special, especially when one guy was black and the other white.
I used to think I was blind to skin color. The older I’ve grown, however, I realize it’s impossible to be color-blind. Race exists. Today, with the events in Ferguson, Missouri, race has become a trending conversation. We have family in the Ferguson community. I’ve followed their pictures on Instagram and read their posts on Facebook. It’s sad. It’s scary. Those stories just seem to feel like a different world entirely.
I always wanted my children to view the world like I did as a child that night sitting in front of the TV. But for my children, the world of black and white collide. Will they have to pick sides? Where will they belong? Will they feel they belong?
When I texted my angst to my husband that afternoon from Target, all he replied was, “It’s just a doll.” Being mixed himself, my husband will be able to relate to my kids in a way I never will. I am grateful for that. If he isn’t worried, then why should I be?! Just. A. Doll.
I realized that afternoon I fear the identity struggles my children will have concerning their race because it is something I never had to deal with myself. This fear was MY fear, not my daughter’s.
My parents had to have had fears surrounding my childhood. I mean, I broke about every bone in my body! But my parents accepted me for me. They allowed me to wear a purple skirt every day. They came to Every. Single. gymnastics competition I had. They got to know my friends and welcomed them in our home. One time in college, I told my dad a story of a professor who had said something I didn’t believe in. I told my dad how I raised my hand and told him I didn’t agree. Later that evening, my dad came to me and said, “I just want you to know I’m proud of you for standing up for what you believe.”
Pride. Not fear.
The world is real. Race is real. Scary, sad, and sickening things happen. I cannot control the world my daughter will grow up in. I can, however, control how I raise her. If she senses my fear, she’ll be scared herself. If she feels safe, and loved, and accepted, I have faith she will rise above the ugliness of the world. The truth is, if there is anywhere I want my daughter to feel most accepted, it is in her very own home.
Fear is faith in reverse. ∼ Zig Ziglar
I am the mom of 2 biracial girls with a boy on the way. My kids are pretty little (5 and 2) so we haven’t dealt with a lot yet. Most of our dealings have been discussions about what colors we all are as a family (daddy has black skin, mommy has white skin, the girls have “tan” skin…). Its all very matter of fact. I’m sure things will get more complex as we get older.
I may be naive, but I think the world is definitely different than it was when I was a kid. I see many biracial kids around, even in Des Moines, IA. We have many friends with biracial kids. I have had very limited negative comments relating to race. Most people seem to be much more open minded and it really does not seem to matter 99% of the time. I’m hopeful for my girls (and future son) that color of skin will remain just that, color of skin and nothing more.
Thanks Gail! We too have so many friends in our shoes. It’s nice to have a community.
I was at Barnes and Noble a couple weeks ago and a stranger – someone I had never met before! – asked me if my daughter was mixed. Isn’t that crazy? I was so taken aback by the whole thing.
I wonder if he/she had mixed kids, or some connection to being biracial. I call my husband a chameleon because everybody claims him! They’ll ask if he’s hispanic, middle eastern, as well as black and white. It’s odd what people will ask, isn’t it?!
My daughter is half black/half white. I have always had fears yet at the same time sometimes have to remind myself and pin point them because we are so comfortable in our lives and family. We may be a different color, but we’re family and that’s just how it is. I’ve never had qualms of bi-racial relationships and families.
It makes me sad and actually a little angry, though, when little kids (I know they don’t know better, but reminds of the close-minded city and world we live in) ask me, “are you her mom?” I reply happy and upbeat ready for my answer because I know exactly where this is going. “but you have different color skin. You are white and she is brown. That’s weird/strange” My reply is always, “No, it’s not weird. No, it’s not strange. Skin color can be different and still be family.” Frustrating!
Recently, something that really got me was a TV show was playing at home and it was a black man explaining how you don’t know how it feels to be a minority and that feeling that comes along with it. My daughter, Kaydin, replies without missing a beat, “Yes, I do.” That broke my heart and she proceeded to tell me about a time on the playground in the first few weeks of kindergarten, over TWO years ago, that a boy told other girls not to play with her because she is brown. And I’ve heard since she was in preschool about other kids saying she had weird or ugly hair. Talk about a heartbreaker story coming from your kid.
Accepting racial differences and not giving in to prejudices is a hard subject to tackle. Especially in good, ole white filled Iowa! 🙂 It’s everywhere and we’re ignorant if we believe it will go away. The best you can do is teach your kids to be respectful of all colors and all kids and also be proud of who they are!
Thank you for sharing Mollie. It is nice to know we don’t march this road alone. When my in-laws recently moved and a neighbor boy was out in the yard helping my mother-in-law and was just chit chatting away. When my father-in-law walked out of the house, the little boy said, “My dad doesn’t like black people,” and then continued to chat away. I love your response about being a family!!
I loved this. I’m mixed and so is my son…. obviously. Growing up I struggled to find my identity. Sometimes I still have a hard time. I sometimes feel like I don’t fit into a “category.” I remember all of the standardized tests I took in high school asking (optional) what race I fit into…. and it never had a box to check biracial. Sometimes I fear that my son will have the same struggle. Never feeling like he fits in. Especially because the area we live in is predominantly white. My son is like your daughter. He’s only 7months old, but he’s fair skinned with light brown hand and he’s got beautiful big hazel eyes. It’s so nice to know that I’m not the only one with these thoughts running through my head. I know that I’m not… but it’s so refreshing to hear these words from another mom.
That box thing is so hard. My husband said his dad told him if he could always pick one to pick black. He never wanted him to choose, “other.” You’d think they’d get rid or modify those soon. So many of us fit into an “other” category!
I loved your article. I have so many parents and adults come up to me and ask if my children are mine? At first I was offended, but I realize now it is ignorance. I am shocked people still think it is okay to ask this question. My children look like their father who is Mexican, and I am a white with fair skin. As my children get older I also see them gravitating towards children of the same skin color which I find interesting.
I agree, I can’t believe people ask that question. My children all look very different so I get, “are they all yours?” Weird. My friend, who is white and her husband African, once got asked by a store clerk, “When did you get them?” I guess assumed they were adopted. Still, not an appropriate question. I guess we just have to have grace when it comes to replying 🙂
Hey Erica! It’s Lin from high school 🙂 I just wanted to say I’m really glad that you are grappling with and actively thinking about these issues with your kids. I think that racial issues are one that we all can and should tackle, especially living in a country like America where there are so many different people and really, we are all mixed in some way or another. Being a minority in a primarily white area was both wonderful and tough in ways that I didn’t learn how to articulate until college. Yet being able to understand it has helped me grow — as a person, closer to my family, and also in my ability to work with and appreciate those around me who come from all sorts of backgrounds.
I know your faith is important to you — I would recommend books by Intervarsity Press. They have done some really wonderful work on racial reconciliation and the church. Although I no longer practice my faith I am still deeply touched and inspired by many IVCF workers who have dedicated their lives to really living the word of God in our world.
Actively looking at the good and the tough parts of race in our society is the only way that we will become more understanding, empathetic, and open… ultimately, that will make this world a better place for us and the generations to come. Hugs!
So good to hear from you Lin! Thank you for reading and your comment. I will have to look for those books. I would be interested in reading. I hope you are well! Hugs back!
When you wrote that you fear their struggles because it’s something you (and me too) never had to deal with, it made me think of when I first started dating Andy. I’m sure I’ve told you this story before. Right before we were going out so he could meet my parents for the first time, he asked me “are they going to care that I’m mixed?” It made my heart sink a little that he had to worry about his skin being a deal breaker with my parents. “They won’t care at all about that- they will care that you have a tattoo.” My military dad despises those! 🙂
That conversation has always stuck with me- and was something I had never had to worry about. When Lando starts dating in 30 years, I hope he never has to worry about that either!
No, you never shared that. That makes me so sad though, because you’re right, something like that would never cross our minds! Yes, I hope too, that our kids won’t have to worry about that!!
Oh, and Tony was worried what my parents would think about his tattoo too 🙂