“Wow, he’s adorable! Are you his nanny?”
In the first 18 months of my son’s life, I heard this question two to three times each week. Once my son learned to speak, the confusion only grew when he referred to me as “Mommy.” While the question changed, the puzzled expressions remained.
I often want to shout, “Yes, I’m a woman of color. Yes, I’m his mother. He literally came from my body, and if you dare ask me if I’m his nanny again, I might just lose it.” Yet, I refrain from such outbursts, even if my frustration is justified. Instead, I just nod and move on, not wanting to feed their curiosity.
After four years, I’m rarely surprised by the ignorance I encounter, but it remains incredibly frustrating. This isn’t just my experience; many mothers of color face similar assumptions, especially those with mixed-race children who don’t share their physical traits.
Not long ago, a video went viral of a little girl interrupting her father during a live BBC interview. The woman who rushed in to retrieve the children was immediately labeled as “the nanny,” primarily because she was Asian and the interviewer was white. When it was revealed that she was, in fact, their mother and the man’s wife, some tried to justify the misjudgment by claiming it was her reaction that led to the assumption.
But let’s be clear: this reveals a deeper issue. Women of color are often seen as “the nanny” until proven otherwise. When I’m out with my son, I frequently have to correct people: “No, I’m his mother!”
A search for “mixed race family” on popular stock photo websites shows that around 75% of the images depict a family with a father of color and a white mother. According to research from Modern Family Blog, Black men are twice as likely to date outside their race compared to Black women, but that doesn’t mean Black women don’t have interracial relationships. Many of my friends in such relationships are women of color. It’s baffling that in 2023, seeing a woman of color with a child who resembles their father’s race prompts immediate assumptions of caregiver status.
It’s not just ignorant; it’s deeply insensitive to inquire about a stranger’s relationship with their children. It’s astonishing that I even have to state this, but here we are.
The lack of representation of mothers of color with mixed-race children contributes to this issue. I’ve encountered children who bluntly ask, “Why is your son white?” While I have more patience with kids than adults, I still find it disheartening. I calmly explain that his dad is white and that he simply takes after him more in terms of appearance. This highlights the failure of some parents to teach their children about diverse family structures.
As my son approaches school age, I can only anticipate the questions he’ll face from his peers. I refuse to teach him to tolerate intrusive inquiries about his identity. He shouldn’t have to justify his existence with “What are you?” on a daily basis.
Being a mother of color—especially a Black mother to a child with lighter skin—is challenging. Some people flinch when I mention that my son presents as white. While we do share some similarities, he also resembles his father, and that’s perfectly fine. Many mixed-race children navigate various identities and appearances.
Acknowledging that my experience as a Black mother with a light-skinned child differs from that of a white mother with mixed-race kids isn’t being defensive; it’s a simple fact. A white mother is rarely labeled as “the nanny” upon first glance, nor is she frequently questioned about her children’s skin tones. Yes, it happens, but not nearly as often or intensely.
This isn’t the first time I’ve addressed this topic. The dismissal of the feelings and experiences of women of color in such situations is rampant. I often hear remarks like, “Can’t you just be grateful for your child?” or “Why do you care what others think?” They fail to grasp the deeper implications of these inquiries.
The real question remains: Why do people feel entitled to ask personal questions about my child and me? Compliments are welcome, and I appreciate the kind words about my son—he’s smart, funny, and adorable—but once someone crosses into invasive territory regarding parentage or our relationship, it’s unacceptable, and I’m not afraid to call it out.
Discussing this frustrating phenomenon does not make me or other women of color overly sensitive. We are not obligated to tolerate ignorance or satisfy others’ curiosities.
I’m not the nanny. And I owe you no explanations.
If you’re interested in exploring more about family dynamics, consider checking out our other blog posts about topics like home insemination, such as the cryobaby at-home insemination kit or resources like this one from the Mayo Clinic on intrauterine insemination.
In conclusion, the journey of being a mother of color, particularly one with a mixed-race child, involves navigating societal assumptions and biases that often feel unfair and intrusive. We must advocate for recognition, respect, and understanding in our roles as mothers.