Why We Adopted Black Babies

Any adoptive parent can tell you that adoption related questions are often the most intrusive, insensitive and outright rude. That's not to say that other parents haven't experienced the rude comment or two from an occasional stranger. But, with adoption for some reason people often think they have carte blanche to say or ask whatever the heck they want.

I've been asked more times than I can count if my two adopted children are my "real" children (I change their poopy diapers and rock them to sleep at night, so I REALLY am their mother), if they are siblings (they are now), how much did they cost (how much did your c-sections cost?), do my two biological children accept them (huh? as much as any siblings accept each other, whatever that means), but the most jarring question I've been asked repeatedly is why we adopted black children. To be clear, I've been asked that by both white and black people.

It is a loaded question. Sometimes it's loaded with accusations or mistrust. Sometimes it's loaded with curiosity or ignorance. Sometimes it's loaded with racism. The answer to that question is even trickier. We did not set out to adopt black children; we set out to adopt children. When the agency asked us what race of baby we wanted, we said, "It doesn't matter. We just want the child that is meant to be in our family." We filled out our homestudy paperwork, did our fingerprints and background checks, said lots of prayers and waited to be chosen by a birth mother. Why did our children's birth mothers pick a white family for their children to grow up in? As much as people may want a logical straightforward answer, the REAL answer is that God led us all to each other.

The first time our adoption agency talked to us about Forest, the strongest, warmest feeling flooded my heart and I knew he was meant to be our son. We had just said no to the agency the day before about a white baby boy, not because he was white, but because it didn't feel right. He wasn't our boy. Forest was our boy, and even though we both felt so strongly that he was meant to be with us, his birth mother didn't pick us. We were disappointed and confused. Three days later, she delivered Forest and chose us to be his parents. We both cried when we got the phone call and eleven hours after his birth we were holding him in the hospital.

Kiira's story was different but just as beautiful. Forest was only 9 months old when I began having very strong feelings that there was another baby meant to be in our family. I was terrified to tell Kent, and he pretty much thought I was insane at first. But, after several days, he came back to me and said he had prayed about it and that I should go ahead and contact the agency. Kiira was born nine months later and after 2 failed placements. Nine months later. That meant that when I had the impressions that there was another baby, she had just been conceived. Kiira's birth mother chose us 2 weeks before Kiira's birth and being with her and her/our baby in the hospital was a spiritual experience.

There is a plan that is greater than all of us. God works in all of our lives to bring us to where and with whom we need to be. We adopted black babies because Forest and Kiira were meant to be in our family and they are black. Their blackness has enriched our lives in ways we never could've anticipated, and more importantly the essence of who they are, their spirits, have completed our family. None of us would've been who we were meant to be without them, and they will become the people God plans for them to be because of our being together.

I think most people who ask why we adopted black children are looking for a race-based answer or at least a racial justification. The honest answer, however, is spiritual and more than just skin-deep.

Keep It To Yourself

Note: I need to make a few comments before posting this. I actually wrote this 6 months ago but never posted it because i thought maybe it was too harsh. But after hearing about other people's experiences recently, I thought it might be time to just put it out there. Although I'm writing about race issues, I think this applies to SO many other circumstances as well.

I have been avoiding blogging about racial discrimination and plain old ignorance that I've been experiencing lately vis-a-vis my children. But without being specific, because even I am not mean enough to out others who have been ignorant, I'm just going to give some advice to these unnamed people -- keep it to yourself!

If you think it's terrible that my husband and I adopted black children because we're robbing them of their culture, keep it to yourself. If you think that my children aren't my "real" children because they're not the same race as me and my husband, keep it to yourself. If you think that my children will suffer being in a white family, keep it to yourself. And please, please, please most of all, if you absolutely have to say something, say it to me and not to my children who are beginning to understand that the world is not always a friendly place.

I'm not asking for more civility. I'm asking for more silence. I'm asking for a little forethought before blurting out your opinion of my children and our family. I don't go around telling people that their children are cursed or robbed of their culture or not the right color or that they look like animals (yes, this was actually said to me!) In fact, I think we should all, myself included, try to only say nice things about each other's children and families. Because in the end, I know that my black children were meant to be mine just as much as my white children were. God planned it from the beginning, and He does not make mistakes. We humans do make lots of mistakes though, and I know that I'm not perfect by any measure. I think I'm just tired of defending what I know is a beautiful thing and meant to be.

Finally, if you're reading this because you're a friend of mine, and you're wondering if you've ever said anything to offend me, chances are that you haven't. In fact, almost every one of the comments listed above came from strangers or distant acquaintances. Most people have been loving and supportive and kind. Most of my loved ones and friends have given my children, all of my children, lots of hugs and kisses and acceptance. But unfortunately the negative comments often overshadow the good, so seriously people...just keep it to yourself!

MLK's Dream

Last night our family had a little celebration of Martin Luther King Jr.'s life and all he did for Americans of color, and consequently for all Americans. Because our children are so young, we decided to read them a children's book about King's life entitled "Martin's Big Words" by Doreen Rappaport and Bryan Collier. It is beautifully illustrated and so perfect for small children mixing the story of his life with many of his own words.

As soon as I opened my mouth to start our lesson, I started crying, and I cried throughout; Kent had to read the book to the children because I was too emotional. How can I put into words how much the Civil Rights Movement has affected me personally and our family? How can I not shed tears thinking of my children being treated as unworthy and less-than? How do I explain to my little ones that the pure love they have for each other is so uncommon and unknown in much of the world? Maija said it best, "Mommy, thinking of this makes my heart sad. I don't think skin matters except to hold in the insides of our bodies." Couldn't have put it better myself.

Even Kent shed a few tears when he read the following while reading Martin Luther King's own words:

"I have a dream that one day ... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers."

At least that part of his dream has been fulfilled in a very real way right here in the walls of our home. If only we could all see each other's insides (metaphorically speaking) and be able to love one another truly as brothers and sisters. If only we could see men's hearts as our savior, Jesus Christ, does and truly judge not "by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

Piece O' Steel

Kent and I have been watching Tyler Perry movies lately: Diary of a Mad Black Woman, Meet the Browns, The Family That Preys, Madea Goes to Jail (actually next on our list). For anyone who hasn't heard of Tyler Perry, which is most of white America, you can read about him here and here. He's a Christian filmmaker who uses his culture, African American culture, as a backdrop for important messages of hope and faith. And he also uses humor in the form of Madea, the gun-toting, Bible quoting, grandmother figure who is always there to help the down-and-out.

Here are some of my favorite Madea quotes:

Myrtle quoting the Bible: "Peace be still." That's what he said.
Madea: Well, peace always comes with still... [takes out gun] ... 'cause I keeps me a piece o' steel.

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Madea: I remember this dude made me so mad, I didn't even know how mad I was until I went to his funeral.
Helen: Why were you so mad at him?
Madea: Because he hit me. Yes he hit me... and I didn't even know how mad I was until I saw him in his casket, he's 8 feet under.
Myrtle: 6 feet, that's how they bury people, Madea, 6 feet under.
Madea: That's what I'm trying to say, I thought I was over what he did to me until I saw him at the funeral, I was so mad I BEAT HIM DOWN 2 more feet.

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Race

In the last 17 months since we adopted Forest I have learned more about race and racism than in my 20 plus years travelling and living all over the world. What I learned growing up in various countries was that people of different races can coexist, get along and even love each other when they're all out of their element. I attended international schools which used an American school curriculum and had English as the primary language, but most of the kids who attended these schools were from all over the world, not necessarily the United States. I learned fast as a young child the importance of openness, because everyone was from such different racial and ethnic backgrounds.

In the last year and a half, I've seen a different side of race than ever before. Some experiences have been positive, some negative. Some whites are open and supportive of our blended family; some whites have been downright racist. Some African Americans are very open to our transracial family; some think it's terrible that a white couple adopted black babies. Just like anything in life, you have all kinds of opinions and degrees of openness or narrow-mindedness. And that right there is evidence that we are all just people regardless of our backgrounds or skin color. Some people are loving, supportive and open. Some people are critical, negative and judgmental. Period.

As I've seen racial tensions flare in politics and the media recently, it again brings up the issue of how we can choose to think of ourselves as different and divided or the same and united. There is more that makes us the same in our hearts than what makes us different. I always think of the scripture in 1 Samuel 16:7 -

For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.

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