Racial Mirrors: Who do they see?
My five-year-old son was holding my hand as we walked down the sidewalk on the busy street so he could get his first big boy hair cut. I was determined to walk into that barber shop with confidence, because I knew that if I was going to show my son that he could embrace this part of who he is, I should to feel comfortable too. I think I was nervous about being judged as the white, adoptive, mom who hadn’t done this before. Aren’t we all, when we step into a new part of parenting?
We first became a transracial family five-years ago, when our son came to us just before his first birthday, I immediately started learning about hair styles and skin care products. I started scanning the toy aisle for any African-American toys I could find for him. Books with diversity in their illustrations made their way into my shopping cart. I will never forget my excitement the year that I found a black angel for the top of our Christmas tree. I was eager to fill my house with items that my son could identify with, but I know even more now, that parenting a child of a different race involved so much more than that.
