In high school I had a close friend, Tyrone, whose mother hated me. I had rationalized that she didn’t like me because I was the one who would come and take her son away from her. My friend was the youngest child in the family and I was the mean and evil body snatcher who came every Friday or Saturday to kidnap her last child.
I secretly hoped that when I would pull up in front of his small house on Detroit’s northwest side that he would be waiting for me on the front porch so I wouldn’t have to come in contact with his possessive mother. My hope never joined reality. Instead, I would have to park and go to the side door and knock. As sure as you can count on the seasons changing, I could always count on Tyrone never being ready. This meant I would have to come in, walk up the three steps in to the kitchen and greet his mother who was always in the kitchen cooking and pissed off. She usually said very little to me and nothing above a grunt but to ignore her was had dire consequences.
There was one time, I came in to her home and did not greet her. It was evident to me from our initial meeting that something in me just made her instantly angry and the anger that rose off her body like steam paralyzed me. My tongue was not immune from the paralysis that she casted on to me and I wanted to speak but nothing came out. Her back was to me so she never saw me trying to speak.
A day or two later Tyrone relayed a message from her. She wanted me to know that if that if I ever wanted to hang out with him again, I would have to come to her house and apologize for being so rude. On top of that, she wanted me to understand that if I ever came in to her home again and did not speak to her she would not be able to predict or control the response I might get from her.
This request was like asking me to jump from a moving vehicle on to broken glass. I was always a very shy and quiet child and now I had to come and bow before a woman who I thought could turn Medusa to stone.
At the repeated request of Tyrone, I did as she asked and survived but worked to keep my contact with her to a minimum because being turned to stone would have really put a kink in my social calendar.
That was 25 years ago and recently I returned to Detroit to speak to a group of transracial adoptive parents. After losing touch with Tyrone over the years, we reunited a few months ago so I invited him to come see me speak.
As I recounted my life growing up as a minority in my own home, I reflected on how thankful I was to have been raised in Detroit where the schools I went to were 95-98% black. Everyday, I was fortunate to be surrounded by kids who looked like me and how those black kids poured in to me the culture and racial identity I couldn’t get in my white home. During the presentation, I thanked Tyrone who had come with his wife and I introduced him to the parents. It was because of friends like Tyrone who knew my background and who were so patient with me that I gained a lot of much needed self esteem and racial pride.
After I finished my presentation, the parents began asking questions and one parent turned to Tyrone and asked him what he thought of my colorful family. Growing up this isn’t the type of question you ask your good friends but it was an answer I was anxious to hear.
Tyrone grinned and reflected back on how much he learned from our family. He recalled coming over and having dinner with us and how he was taken aback when we sat at the dining room table, ate and shared the particulars about our day. No one else he knew ever did that but he liked that we did.
Then he shared with the audience the connection I never put together. His mom didn’t like me because I was raised by a white family. She had stereotypes of how white people were and she didn’t want that to transfer to her son. She thought whites were disrespectful and unruly. Unfortunately, my lame tongue that failed to greet her proved her point. Tyrone went on to say that if he came across as disrespectful or undisciplined towards his mother she would blame it on his contact with me.
The information that Tyrone shared was very helpful to the parents who sat captivated as they heard how a black family responded to our transracial family. I stood in front of the room trying to remain professional but speechless as he shared the truth that I missed.
Being a multicultural family was all I had ever known so it was my normal. Therefore, it was never a thought to me that we were as unusual as we were. Even as Tyrone told this 25 year old truth I was shocked.
As I write this, in the first paragraph I saw it coming so for some who read this they will too, but this was one squadron of enemy planes I never saw on my radar screen.
As I continue to walk the life of a transracial adoptee it seems each day I learn something new about the life I have lived. The lesson in this is simple; As a multicultural family your radar screen has to be expanded. You have to develop your own “spidey sense” about things like this that aren’t detected on a smaller radar screen.
As a young teenager, I walked away from this exchange thinking Tyrone’s mom hated me because I was a bad person; there was something flawed in me that made her instantly angry. In reality she resented my family not me. It may be a small distinction but for me to know that then would have made a huge difference; to know it was not me. Being aware of this would’ve given a lot of points back to my self esteem that was already dangerously low.
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Last week I began my second book and at this point, the title of the book is named after this post, EXPANDING THE RADAR SCREEN. The book is a collection of the blog posts I have written over the last year and a half. It will organize 80+ blog post and show my journey and growth as I decipher what it means to be an adoptee and how that has affected my life. I will keep you posted as the book progresses.
Oh wow, thank you for sharing that! I have never heard that a black family might stereotype our family as disrespectful and unruly and am glad for the enlightenment you offer, as usual. I wonder if you would care to expand sometime on the expectations the black community might expect as far as manners go. Obviously this woman expected a young man to greet her (respect toward women? or parents? or adults in general?). Do you have other thoughts to this?
Anticipating your new book. . . 😀 And out of curiosity, I assume the picture is of you and Tyrone–are you the one on the right? I haven’t seen many pictures of you (the back of your book!).
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Sorry I should have labelled the picture. I am on the right and Tyrone is on the left.
Manners and respect are generally an important thing in the black community. The difference in how children should be disciplined is huge too.
What me and my brothers got away with at home( cussing and yelling) wouldn’t have been acceptable with any of my black friends.
Respect for adults was a big thing and as an adult now I see the importance of what she said.
Also, stereotypes are often thought of as only for minorities but the are many in the black community towards whites. The lack of discipline in white families is a big one.
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I’m so excited to hear about your 2nd book, Kevin!! Great post!!
Another big difference in cultures is speaking and greeting people in general, not just children to adults. White people generally do not speak when passing someone they don’t know well. People of color tend to speak, nod or share some kind of acknowledgment with each other even in passing a perfect stranger. When four students of color where I work were killed in an accident, the one legacy their families wanted left behind was for everyone on campus to speak when passing. The girls had struggled with adjusting to the lack of acknowledgment when walking around campus. Of course the request was granted for maybe a few days before most white people went back to their silence. sigh. It’s easy to analyze where these two traditions originated from. The sad thing is the white custom of not speaking or acknowledging people is not explained and generations just pick it up by osmosis, not knowing they are taking on very offensive behavior to people of color.
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GREAT post, Kevin. This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time — the difference in discipline styles between my family and the families of my kids’ friends growing up. I have read about this being an issue with others with older kids (mine are still 3 and 1, so it’s not an issue now) but am wondering how I can navigate it or “learn” how to be more consistent with how my kids’ friends’ families will handle things and treat others in the future. Maybe we can talk about this at the event?? 🙂
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Alex,
I would love to about it in more detail at the Columbus event. The big difference is the styles in discipline begin at day one which then makes a bigger difference when they are older.
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I recall a moment last week in the middle of Chick-fil-a when my middle child was acting up, as usual, and with E (who is our 2-year-old TRA daughter) on my hip I had to reprimand him in public. We were the only white family in the restaurant and you could hear a cricket chirp as I had this descussion with my boys. All ears and eyes were on us. They watched me scold the boy, issue a warning then I literally said, “we’re being watched right now by everyone in this restaurant so shape up!” LOL.. don’t know if our show got a thumbs up or a thumbs down from our attentive audience. I’ve often wondered how it would look when I have to reprimand E in public.
I found what Judy was saying about greeting people in public interesting. Since E’s been with us I’ve found myself greeting people of color I see in a store or parking lot, usually a head nod and a friendly hello. I felt like I was acknowledging their “kinship” to E and showing respect to them. But the practice has become a habit so ingrained I do it all the time now, regardless of whether or not my daugher is in my arms. Without E there I do get some funny looks at my greetings.
Kevin I’ll have to write a review of your book, heck I dare say I already can 😉 It will certainly be this year’s number one book recomendation for TRAFs.
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This is a great post. Yes I saw it coming as you started the post. But it didn’t really prepare me for what he shared with the parents.
This is really interesting. My daughter’s birthmom is hispanic and we’ve added their family to ours. I remember well her bio grandpa correcting her when she was barely 2 when she disrespected me. I never thought of it being a cultural thing though but it makes perfect sense. We white mom’s always worry about how we care for our kids hair and skin but never stop to think about these kind of things. Thank you for opening my eyes and I look forward to more details on your newest book.
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Thank you for sharing this experience – it is so helpful.
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thanks for sharing.
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As an (white) adoptive parent about to bring home my four year old son from the DR Congo, I really appreciated this particular post. I have been reading your posts for the past year now (via Utah Transracial Adoption Yahoo group), and want you to know what a great foundation you are laying for my family’s education about potential scenarios we will encounter and what we can do to help our son. Thank you!
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Thank you for this post!
I have really been struggling lately with this. I desire for my TRA daughter (just 5 months old) as well as my biological son to have a diverse group of friends. We have black friends, biracial, Swedish and Hungarian friends. I would love to get to know more black families with children, but the families at my son’s preschool don’t want to have much of anything to do with us. I try greeting them in the hallway and smile, but am always ignored. Now they completely avoid eye contact and some even go out of their way and move to the other end of the hallway when they see us coming. I’m rambling I guess, but just wanted to know if you had any advise and wisdom to give on how us TRA can help bridge that gap???
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This is very interesting! I am Canadian and that is one of the reasons our birth mother chose us. She wanted her child to be raised to be respectful and courteous. Evidently, Canadians are noted for being polite. In fact, that is one of the things most people comment about when meeting me. Also, I talk to everyone. I strike up conversations in line-ups at the store and at restaurants with people waiting for tables. I am not sure if this is the reason but I find that African American people are exceptionally accepting of our family. The only issues we have encountered were with some so called up-standing Caucasians in the community. This gives me great hope that our baby will be welcomed by the African American community so that she will have close ties to her heritage.
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It’s funny because I was raised by white parents in the U.S. and my parents were VERY strict. Part of the reason I am more lenient with my kids is because I don’t want them to be afraid of me. I love my dad and he is a good man. I have always been close to my family and am still close to my dad, but I grew up afraid of him. I don’t want that kind of relationship with my kids. I think you can teach respect and discipline without being too harsh.
I have found the AA women are the most likely to reach out to me and talk to me, but I never thought about it being because they are culturally more inclined to speak to strangers. On the flip side, the most negative reactions I’ve received were also from black women. Also, one of my best friends told me that her husband doesn’t approve of white couples adopting black babies. He likes our family, but in general doesn’t agree with the idea. I have a hard time not being hurt by this. He doesn’t let his daughter have white dolls. I’m confused by his friendship to me, but his rejection at the same time.
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Kristin,
I respect this man because although he might not agree with your beliefs/ actions he’s willing to put that aside and see you for who you are as a family. That’s the most we can ask for.
I would assume he doesn’t want his child playing with white dolls because the white influence in our world is so strong that in his house he wants to counteract that with the black influence. I look at it more as a pro-black thing vs. an anti-white thing.
I don’t see a problem with that. It’s his way of building up his child by showing her an alternative to what the media shows her everyday.
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I’ve been reading through your blogs and I am fascinated. My husband and I are white and have 3 adopted black children. Reading about your experiences and perceptions is very interesting and helpful. Thanks!
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