Your mixed race kids
PSA to racially mixed couples, too often, more specifically, white mothers of Brown children. Do not love your child’s mixed race hair so much that you think this it is a “look” that best represents them when their hair looks dry and disheveled. I’m here to tell you that it does not. I’ll go on to say that it does nothing for their ethnic integration or their sense of belonging. It does not offer self esteem. Later they will have enough of a challenge struggling to fit in where they don’t fully belong. Help them to start this journey with more intention.
So often I hear from mixed raced teenagers that their white moms don’t think they are racist because of proximity. Proximity does not excuse culpability. They seem to be vicariously fed by their mixed raced child’s experience in a way that can seem obsessive, even delusional.
I had one white parent tell me that she doesn’t know what her daughter experiences but told her daughter she will always protect her while taking her to visit racist framily. Does she not see the hypocrisy or does she simply choose to continue to protect white supremacy.
I get it, love is love. The problem is where does the responsibility lie when comes to helping the mixed race child deal with not having a cultural home. One adult has to give up something but the child seems to pay the debt. The parent who is not white seems to miss the obvious and complacency replaces their due diligence.
The child is the one who needs to have a shared cultural experience to not have a part of themselves sacrificed for which they will search at a later date. The child needs a community that is reflective of the parts of themselves for a healthful integration. They need to be able to withstand not fully fitting into either of parent’s worlds in a full reflection in their mirror.
If you love your child, whether you still love your co parent or not you owe it to your child to not erase that part of them. I see the suffering in too many who have been challenged in younger years and continue to be challenged in successfully healing the wounds of parents saying they didn’t know or maybe they truly didn’t care. I don’t know but I continue to feel some kind of way about it.