Everyday Black Matters
This Friday morning is the day we find out -hopefully- if we are are having a boy or a girl. I’ve had my heart set on a girl and at one point I even felt like perhaps the Lord was leading me to believe that I was having a girl by giving me the name, “Sophia.” (I have since decided I can’t say with 100% surity it was the Lord, maybe especially since the name Sophia, while beautiful is far too overused for me to even consider).
As the time gets closer, I’m trying to prepare myself for the reality that I could be having a boy. I’ve been sad about that idea for a few reasons. 1) I all ready have a boy, I want something new. 2) I’m sick of boy toys: cars, trains, trucks, etc. 3)I want to do girl hair, dress her in pink with hair bows and teach her to do make-up & 3) I’ll explain below.
I had a good talk about my dissapointment about the whole boy issue with my friend Jess the other day who said, “you know, another boy wouldn’t be just like Ransom, he’d have his own name, his own identity & personality, etc.” It was so simple, yet so helpful.
Today I woke up almost crying at the thought of having another boy. Wondering how I’ll respond in front of an ultra-sound technician if I see a little penis shooting up between two wide open legs. Is it okay to cry? Is it okay to be deeply disappointed? Does that represent some big issue in my life? Or some profound ungratefulness? It feels so very immature to me. I want to be better than how I feel about this blogging friends, but I’m not. I just feel plain old sad about it. There’s nothing for it really.
But today, I did have a small breakthrough. I was sitting in Panera & in walks a white woman pushing a little 3 month old beautiful cocoa brown baby boy in a stroller. He was looking around and his face was just beautiful and alert and precious. I said to God, “Lord! Look at him, he’s so beautiful, I love him!” It was almost as if God was saying, “Grace, you love him and he’s not even yours! Why wouldn’t you have even a greater amount of love for your own child?” “Well, Lord, you do make a good point there, however, this little boy is black and my baby will not be black & to be honest with you Lord, I’m still sort of hung up on this issue.” And so ended the conversation.
This is the #3 I mentioned above. I don’t expect many of you to understand what it would be like to feel like you are one race and then give birth to a child of an equal -yet opposite- other race. Not adopt a child of a different race, but give birth to. It’s an amazingly complicated and perplexing thing to have happen and it’s been confusing and painful for me for over 10 years at least. For others its joyful. For me it’s not. And it’s not that I haven’t grown into a certain sense of joy at who God has made me as a half-white woman, it’s that I haven’t yet grown into that same sense of joy for my children.
Having a little girl who the world may perceive as white is one thing, but growing up with an evil and emotionally white brother, a distant and cold white step-father & loads of other racist white men in my life –I’m sorry but I haven’t exactly been thrilled at the prospect of giving birth to one of them, let alone two. I’m sorry white people, don’t be offended. The journey of white/black biracial people is either a) extremely thought through and usually painful or b) blissfully ignorant and “just fine.” In case you haven’t noticed I fall into the a. category & I mean no offense to you at all. I am very confused about race as it pertains to my children and I hope you will be able to extend grace to me in my confusion.
When I gave birth to Ransom, I knew that the world will perceive him as a white man. Not just any man but a white man. Ransom will spend his whole life being able to live with all of the perks hidden inside the nap sac of “white priviledge,” but will always know that he is 25% black, has a biracial mother, a black grandfather, a biracial grandmother & a Native American Great Grandmother. So, is Ransom a white man? No, not really. But what the worlds sees when him & Dave are out together is a white man with his white son. And that is a huge responsibility. White men like anyone else (say, Americans of any race) need to learn what that means to other people, what power they have because of their gender or the color of their skin, etc. It would be irresponsible not to teach Ransom what power he has because of his race, finanical position, looks, gender, education, etc. Being a white man, holds a lot more power. You may disagree with me, but from everything I’ve studied for years, the world -not just America- seems to hold these truths to be self-evident: white men have power. Bottom line.
So, do I want another one for crying out loud? No, I don’t. I’m sorry if that makes me a jerk. I’m nervous about ruining Ransom as it is with all my racial baggage. All I know is that, thank God, only 1 of us in the Biskie house will be all one race. Ransom, the new baby & I will at least all continue to figure it out together -none of us even all one thing. I.E. “Mama, is biracial, but you two are more white.” I mean, jeez, do I really need to have that conversation. But how do we get around it? Aint no black kids going to assume my kids are black. When I was growing up, the black kids were quick to tell me, “you aint white, your one of us.” It was exactly what I needed because the white kids were always saying, “you aint white, you aint one of us, you aint welcome.” But where on earth do my kids fit in? I just mourn for them. I mourn for them.
My hope is that times are different enough now. Race & ethnicity issues have advanced. I can tell my children they are biracial JUST LIKE THE FREAKING PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: HOLLA! I mean, seriously, how cool is that for us biracial folks? Seriously. (It’s awesome).
So, you’d think I was finding out Friday morning if I had breast cancer or not. But it’s not just a boy or a girl, it’s 32 years of biracial baggage and the fear of losing my black identity through another child. Like I’m somehow shutting down the whole of the African-American race by giving birth to a baby that could be perceived as a white man when he grows up.
What does my white-man-husband think of all this? He’s not shocked or shaken. Dave knew this since we were dating. I was always honest with my racial issues. He knows I’ll get over it, I’ll be a good mom, I’ll let God lead me in & we’ll all be fine. He’s not worried, offended, scared or otherwise perplexed. That’s God’s gift to me, a white husband who really does not worry about my racial issues at all. He always listens, always seeks to understand me as a black woman -and usually does- and always has grace for me. He gets it & as a white man he knows it’s a big deal. He’s not stupid or misinformed about the power of race, ethnicity & how it plays out in the world. He believes in white priviledge and knows we have a job in front of us with our children. They will know their black heritage, to be sure, but they will also know what looking like a white person means. Were a team on this one. You may not understand me. Whatever. God does & so does Dave & so do a handful of my closest friends. So, na.
Boy or girl, clearly I have issues, but I’m confident in what I’ve seen God do in my life that he will care for me & my children no matter how many races we are and how much confusion we all have.
All that said, here’s to a girl!
(As an aside, were also planning to adopt African-American children after this one… you know, just because we want to make our life simpler & less complicated. hahaha… just kidding. No, seriously, were very passionate about adopting black kids in particular and then we’ll add this whole other layer of differences among the 5 or 6 of us combined. But, if nothing else, we got love, baby. Nothin, but love).
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