A couple weeks ago, I was visiting a friend, just me and the boys, Lavar was gone for a basketball game. My friend, who is white, is married to a fellow basketball player, we’ll call him E, (also white) and they have 4 beautiful children whom I completely adore. They are such a wonderful family. My boys love them and they get along great.
All the kids were outside playing, and one of E’s teammates stopped by. He entered into the backyard and saw all the kids playing and said “Hey, whose are the little black kids?”
Black kids? There are black kids out there? Whose are the black kids?
Oh wait. Those little black kids are my kids.
It was kinda a weird realization for me. I have always known it, but it hit me differently that day. I am raising black kids. And I am white.
I don’t think of my kids as black or white, they are just my boys. I don’t categorize them. But I have to be completely honest with myself and be completely aware, people will categorize them.
And I think as people of one race or color, we don’t know what it is like to feel like we have to identify with a particular culture or color. We just are who we are. But some kids, like my own and many others out there, will probably feel pressure to be a certain way, to fit in to a certain group. Because they don’t fully fit anywhere.
I think we mothers all want the absolute best for our kids. We want to beat up the meanies, hold their hand when they are hurt, and be right there when they need it. And we ache when we can’t.
I suppose part of this loving, protecting spirit that God gave us mothers is to do our best to teach our babies that they are perfect the way they are. They don’t have to be a particular color to fit in anywhere. And if someone isn’t okay with it, you don’t have to be their friend. As my ever-so-secure husband tells me “I gotta love me. Because if I don’t love me, then who will?”
On top of this, I am raising men. I want to raise my little men to be able to run a company, be a president, and lead a family. And part of raising these eventual men is helping them understand that God made them perfect, two colors and everything. That they don’t have to fit in anywhere, they can just be who they are. That they can be secure in themselves because of God’s love for them and our love for them.
So far in our life we haven’t experienced any real issues with our boys besides people ‘noticing’ the difference. I had a group of little girls ask me why Tae was black and I was white. It was complete innocence and I was happy to explain that ‘Tae’s daddy comes from a completely different place where most of the people are black. In fact, you would be considered different if you were to go there.’ It was eye opening to them, and so cute as they tried to understand.
What do you think about interracial children today? They world is getting smaller, they say, but are there people/cultures/generations that still categorize and stereotype? And seriously, if you just saw my boys on the street, would you think black or white? Totally just curious on this one… 🙂