A to Z Challenge: Q is for…

Quit asking me if my child is mine…

From the day I found out I was pregnant I knew race would become a big issue. It started with comments of “mixed breeding” from my family πŸ˜‘ and continued with comments on appropriate biracial names and whether or not I would allow our child to embrace her black side because I apparently don’t according to my family. 

As my due date approached it soon became a matter of what skin tone she would have. Imagine everyone’s surprise when out came this pasty pale child. That 1/8 Irish gene apparently runs deep. We even went through a brief time when she looked a bit Oriental. To which I blamed all the Chinese food I ate while pregnant. 

Naturally of course, when people see us together they assume I’m the nanny or something. I’ve lost track how many times I’ve been asked whose kid did I have. Usually followed by random people touching her curly hair… like she’s some magical unicorn. #keep your dirty paws off my child.

Now there have been a few times even I have questioned the genetic code that gave me a little porcelain beauty. But I mean hey I watched her come out of me so I know she’s mine… Yet some friends continue to joke that she’s not mine. In front of her. And just when I was beginning to think that the doubtfulness had worn off, I’m back yielding questions of whether or not she’s mine. 

This infuriates me. 

For starters, why is acceptable for a white mother to come in with a black child and no one question it? Secondly, why is it even a big deal in 2017? Because as long as everyone continues to make race an issue it will always be one. But most importantly 

HOW DARE YOU SAY MY CHILD IS NOT MINE IN FRONT OF HER? 

Sure she may only be nearly 3, but she is incredibly aware. She knows that momma is black and daddy is white; and that she looks more like daddy. And that comment of her not being mine is slowly bouncing around her little mind trying to figure out why they say that, when she knows that I am her momma. I don’t want her to grow up thinking something is wrong because she’s biracial. 

It’s also highly disrespectful in my opinion, to keep on saying it when I’m clearly getting frustrated from bystanders looking over and/or asking if she really is mine. 

She was switched at the hospital. 

And apparently you were dropped on your fucking head to be so ignorant. Sure these comments sound harmless, but the reality is that they are going to leave a major impact on her. I’m aware that race and her skintone are always going to be some type of issue. I’m not stupid. But if I can shut it down when I’m able to, I will. 

I even made a PSA about it. How I was no longer going to put up with jokes about her not being mine. As I said my child is aware, and I don’t want her growing up thinking something is wrong with her. I proudly exclaimed that the next person who made a comment, whether family, friend, or stranger was going to see a side of me they’ve never seen before. And it’s not going to be pretty. 

Call me white all you want. Say I think I’m better because I married a white man. Insult me because I don’t fit your sterotypical mold. But disrespect my kid and that’s where shit gets real. I’m trying to raise a strong, independent and confident young lady, and yielding comments on whether she’s mine or not is not going to help with anything other than continue fueling this race fire. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s