Updated: May 13, 2020
Originally Published: Oct. 25, 2019
As I stand in the grocery store, picking out a fresh bag of apples, a stranger approaches me. “So, are you their foster mom?” she inquires, pointing to the two kids at my side.
“No,” I respond, feeling a wave of irritation. She lingers, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer, blocking my cart. “I’m their mom,” I finally clarify. My frustration isn’t with foster care; I respect that essential role. What bothers me is her assumption about why a white woman is shopping with two black children.
As part of a large multiracial family, I’m accustomed to curious questions. However, I find it irritating when strangers feel entitled to interrogate us during our mundane trips to the park or library. I’ve even been asked by TSA agents during airport security checks, “What’s the deal with your family?” as they pat me down.
The inquiries can be invasive: “Could you ever give your kids away? Why didn’t their biological parents want them? My neighbor’s brother adopted a child, and that kid is messed up.” I’ve heard absurd questions like, “Why didn’t you adopt a white baby?” or “How much did your kids cost?” People even ask, “Are they real siblings?” and “Why didn’t you have your own kids?” as if they have any right to know.
Let me clarify: Not every comment is offensive. Many individuals genuinely compliment our family or share their own adoption experiences. We’ve met adoptees who offer advice on nurturing confident adults who were adopted. However, there’s a stark distinction between connecting through shared experiences and treating my children like they’re subjects of an investigation due to their adoption and race.
My daughters, in particular, dislike when white women question them about their hair. We’ve encountered adults who, in a display of privilege, reach out to touch my daughters’ cornrows without consent. My children are taught to assert themselves, telling these adults, “Do not touch my hair.” I’ve also intervened directly, firmly stating, “Please don’t touch my children.” Curiosity isn’t a valid excuse for such actions.
The line of questioning often continues: “Who does your hair? Can your mom braid? How long does that style take?” These inquiries put my kids on the spot and are utterly inappropriate. Adults should not touch children they don’t know or interrogate them as if they’re on trial. The assumption that it’s acceptable to engage with my children because I’m white is misplaced. My loyalty lies with my kids, not with anyone else.
Many people overlook the fact that while my children’s adoptions may be obvious, their stories are deeply personal. We’re not ashamed of our multiracial family or their adoptions; rather, we believe that these narratives belong solely to our children. They are sacred and not for public scrutiny or judgment.
Some of my experiences have been downright bizarre. For example, during a routine gynecological appointment with my young daughters, a nurse whispered, “Are you going to tell them they’re adopted?” I replied, “They can hear you. Given that I’m white and they’re black, I think they’ll figure it out.” My kids have known they were adopted since they were in our arms.
Once, while waiting in line at a grocery store, a woman asked me if my daughters were “real sisters.” I was stunned. When she pressed further, I snapped back with a firm “Yes.” Furious at her questioning their bond, I led my girls out of the store, explaining that they are always allowed to walk away or say, “That’s none of your business.”
When my eldest was just a year old, a waitress approached our table during dinner. Before even taking our drink order, she exclaimed, “Are you babysitting?” I responded, “Nope! She’s mine!” Her exuberance over my daughter being adopted was overwhelming. I rolled my eyes at my husband and redirected her excitement by asking for an unsweetened iced tea.
I understand that our family piques curiosity, especially now that we are a family of six. Our differences in skin color are apparent, and while it’s natural to notice, it crosses a line when that observation turns into intrusive questions.
I’m open to discussing general aspects of adoption, such as the types or the preparation involved. However, demanding personal details about my kids’ adoption stories is not acceptable.
Consider how you would feel if someone demanded to know your weight, financial status, or personal traumas. It’s invasive and inappropriate. Each child’s adoption story, including the circumstances surrounding it, is intricately linked to their identity. They will navigate their adoptions throughout their lives, and they don’t need unsolicited advice or pressure from strangers.
There are countless topics we can discuss, but my kids’ adoption stories won’t be among them.
This article was originally published on Oct. 25, 2019.
Summary:
The blog discusses the challenges and frustrations of being part of a multiracial family and the invasive questions that come with it. It emphasizes that while adoption may be visible, the stories behind it are private and should be respected. The author shares personal anecdotes to highlight inappropriate interactions and stresses the importance of protecting her children’s narratives.
Keyphrase:
children’s adoption stories
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