Why are you kissing him?

Honestly, I forget that I am white and my son is African American. When we are out and about, I talk to him just like he is my son, go figure. I also have a tendency to hug and kiss on him like he is my son, go figure. Oddly enough, my son does not hesitate to talk to me like I am his Mother nor does he hesitate to hug and kiss me. I forget about our differences until some puzzled passer-by stares a little too long at my child. I forget about our differences, that others see all too clearly.

I have learned to take a deep breath and ask, “Can I help you?” I have learned that if I can hold my temper most people are simply curious. I have learned that if speak directly to them, they realize that they have been staring and usually politely retreat.

Things have changed, but to see the change live and in person is still a puzzle to some people. I do my best to help solve the puzzle, but there comes a point when you are a stranger and do not need to know. I do my best to help solve the puzzle and have had many pleasant conversations about fostering, adopting, and transracial families.

The Right Mom

If you give birth to your child, the question of whether or not you are the right Mom for your child may never cross your mind. At 3:00am when you are trying to clean spit-up out of your hair while calming a crying child, you may question your ability to be Mom, but not whether you are the right Mom.

As an adoptive Mom I have questioned whether or not I was the right Mom for my child. As my son came into the terrible 2’s his temper was not just terrible. It was terrible, horrific, extreme, unbelievable and intense. I tried to just say, “He’s 2.” But something inside me wondered. As he approached 3 his tempers were constant. I was afraid to take him to the park for fear of him hurting another child. He was kicked out of Sunday School and out of a Mothers of Preschoolers group. I seriously questioned my ability to be his Mom. I questioned if I was the right Mom for him.

My adopted son is also of another race than me which seemed to compound my insecurities. I have heard slander and racists comments about me and my family, but I had always chalked that up to ignorance and the lack of a loving spirit. But as my son became increasingly more difficult to handle, was I the right Mom for him? I questioned if race really did matter and questioned whether or not I was the right Mom for him.

At his annual check, the Doctor did the usual checking height, weight and various other vital statistics, and then he started asking me developmental questions like, “Does he know his colors? Can he say his ABC’s? Can he jump? Color inside the lines?” and more. As we talked, I began to realize that there was something wrong and it had nothing to do with my ability or right to Mother him.

We were then referred for more testing and the results showed a speech and development delay. He then was accepted into speech therapy and a special education class devoted to meeting his needs. Within 6 months his tempers had become few and far between. By the end of the year, he was speaking not just words but sentences too. His difficulties had nothing to do with me.

Since he is adopted and of another race, I sometimes still wonder if I am the right Mom for him, but I cannot deny how much I love him. Through our difficult time, I did what any Mother would do. I searched, researched, asked questions and eventually did find the help he needed. With every hurdle he jumps, I am right there like any Mother cheering the victories, comforting the disappointments, helping with the hurts, encouraging him to keep on trying as well as directing, teaching, counseling when and where I can.

My son continues to improve and succeed. My son is now known for his hugs and laughter. I love this child. I am his Mother, and I am the right Mom.

Equality in Love

“Do you recommend transracial adoption?” of course, I do. I adore both my sons. I do not see one as biological and one as adopted. They are both mine. I do not see one as Caucasian and one as African American. They both need food, clothing, shelter and love.

I refer to them as biological, Caucasian and adopted, African American only as a reference and credibility tool to allow readers to understand my point of view. I never call my sons at home the biological one or the adopted one. I never adapt the house rules, privileges and punishments based on their color or their birth story. My babies are my babies, and the differences you may see in how I interact with them is not because on race or blood line, but because my sons are five (5) years apart in age.

The only time I have truly noticed a difference between my Caucasian child and my African American child is in caring for their skin and hair. One has sensitive skin and needs special soaps and detergents. One’s skin burns easily but the other son’s skin scars easily. One has really thick and curly hair and needs special conditioners. The other’s hair is curly and wild and must be kept short to look neat.

Well, if I really think about it diet and desserts are different too. One is a meat eater and the other is leaning towards being a vegetarian. One loves ice cream and the other cake. Well, if I really think about it, I can think of a lot of things that are different between the two, but not based on color or blood, but based on the fact they are two different people with different tastes and interests.

Honestly, from those descriptions do you know which is for which child? You can absolutely love all your children in your transracial family. The issues and concerns you have will be the same ones every Mom or Dad has caring for their children. When you have siblings (transracial or not), you will have the same challenges as anyone else who has two children with two different personalities.

Transracial love is parental love. Regardless of color or blood line, you will love, laugh and cry with and for your children.