I do not wake up in the morning thinking to myself that I have a biracial child. I don’t tickle her and think about the color of her skin or the texture of her hair. I don’t do these things anymore than I kiss my husband in the morning and think to myself that he is black. These people are my family, my world, and the motivation behind just about everything I do.
It’s not that I’m “colorblind” (a term that only those blind to their own privilege can use with any sincerity). I am aware of both racial inequality and my own privilege as a white person in America, and I try very hard to check that privilege in ways that make me more productive in creating an equitable world. So I’ll never tell you that I “don’t see” race, but I certainly don’t make it the end-all, be-all of my observations about someone, and I certainly don’t put racial identity at the forefront of my interactions with my own family.
We are a family. The fact that we are a multiracial family really doesn’t have much bearing on my day-to-day life.
That’s all very nice to say (and I mean it), but I also live in St. Louis, Missouri, one of the most segregated cities in America. (Check out this BBC mini-documentary about Delmar Street, the street that divides one of the most segregated portions of one of the most segregated cities.) That means that families like ours aren’t all that common here.
This is a city where a picture of an interracial couple kissing on the cover of a local newspaper magazine insert had readers absolutely up in arms. The newspaper who ran the picture wrote about the “controversy,” (in an article titled “Black man kissing white woman causes stir,”which is interesting all on its own because–to me–it’s pretty clear that the white woman is the one doing the kissing.)
I’m not exactly living in a valley of tolerance and love, is what I’m trying to say.
Perhaps this is why my students always seem surprised to learn that my family is multiracial.
First, some background. I teach at a community college, and the student body is mostly made up of racial minorities. This is even more true of the students in my classrooms, as I teach developmental writing.
Over the course of the semester, my students and I get to know one another. I require them to come to my office to talk about their papers, and I have a picture of my daughter on my desk.
Their reactions are always interesting to me, and there almost always are reactions. This semester, I’ve gotten several versions of “I didn’t know your daughter was mixed!” (Of course you didn’t. I don’t walk into the classroom and announce “Hi! I’m your teacher. My daughter is biracial.”) Usually they make that statement, tell me how cute she is, tell me about their own kids, and then we move on to their papers. There have been a few variations on this conversation this semester.
“Your daughter’s mixed?! I could tell you had too much soul.”
“Is that your daughter? She’s so cute! Is she mixed? I knew that you . . . How do I say this? I could tell that you were cool with everyone.”
I will say that I haven’t gotten any reactions from my students that came across as negative. There has been genuine surprise, and there has been the suggestion that my daughter’s picture somehow affirms something they suspected about me, but the reactions are almost always positive.
What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all? I know that race matters, and I know that race factors into how I teach (especially when it comes to
how I talk about grammar). While I don’t think that being part of a multiracial family makes me any less racially privileged, it has made me more aware of that privilege and how unjust it is. I hope that positively impacts the way I interact with my students as well.
Appreciate this post! Around here I usually get a “Huh. Biracial baby. [moving on]” type reaction from people, but in SC people’s faces totally change. Have you noticed that? When my husband’s (then bf) friends saw that his girlfriend (me) was white their eyes literally widened when they met me. They were white, too, and I’m not exactly sure what they were expecting, but they were pretty surprised. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again b/c I didn’t know places like this existed until I experienced it myself, but where I live is actually a valley of, if not love, then tolerance. There are lots of multiracial families and tolerance for *diversity* is something I have found in my town and the towns around me. People don’t really stare at all and I usually find that no reaction is the reaction I get. I’m wondering how I will react if and when we move b/c I have gotten very spoiled.
I love the line “While I don’t think that being part of a multiracial family makes me any less racially privileged, it has made me more aware of that privilege and how unjust it is.” I have been trying to explain this to people but never found such succinct and perfect wording.
A very nice post. I am a parent in a mixed race family and I have been reading a lot recently on issues of racial identity as my son is about to begin school. I have just finished reading a memoir which I found truly inspirational. It is called ‘Split at the Root’ by Catana Tully. http://splitattheroot.com/
Catana was a black child from Guatemala who was raised by white German parents in the wake of WWII. I Highly recommend it to anyone at all interested in issues of racial identity and transracial parenting.
I’m white woman and a foster mum – my foster daughter just happens to be the most gorgeous, chub-a-licious five month old African-American baby girl on the planet. I get a similar reaction from almost anybody who comes to my office (as their are a zillion pics of her on my desk).
Oddly enough, I’ve also never, ever been asked out by soooo many African-American men in my entire life — almost invariably *after* they’ve either seen pics of or met K in person when she’s with me
It’s actually how I met my current BF.