“Are we making the right decision as parents?” my partner asked while I stuffed a peanut butter sandwich and a banana into our son’s dinosaur-themed backpack. On a rainy Sunday morning, we had impulsively decided to visit the Portland Art Museum to catch the final day of “All Things Being Equal…”—a thought-provoking exhibit by artist Hank Willis Thomas that critiques the exploitation of Black individuals within America’s persistent consumer culture.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “It’s important for us to get out and immerse ourselves in culture.”
Not long after, we found ourselves in the museum’s lobby, surrounded by a diverse mix of attendees—parents with moody teenagers, retirees, young intellectuals, and mothers with babies in carriers—all dressed in the typical Pacific Northwest style: chic jackets, beanies, and thick glasses. Our three-and-a-half-year-old held my hand with one tiny hand and his father’s with the other, his eyes wide with wonder at the new experience.
He beamed as we strolled past a version of Picasso’s “Guernica” crafted from NBA jerseys and striking images that compared professional sports to slavery. He hummed a tune from a recent animated film as we examined “The Door of No Return,” reimagined as an Absolut Vodka bottle.
Whenever either my partner or I tried to break our hand-holding trio to get a closer look at a piece, our son would immediately express his displeasure: “Where’s Daddy?!” or “Where’s Mommy?!” While his desire for our togetherness was sweet, I couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by his loud, innocent voice amidst the serious atmosphere.
As we delved deeper into Thomas’ work, the oddness of our situation became increasingly apparent. Engaging with art that directly addresses Black experiences in a city known for its lack of diversity left me feeling somewhat disoriented. While I did see more people of color than usual that day, the numbers were still small, and our presence attracted attention.
I often caught the curious glances of other attendees—first at my Black face, then my partner’s White face, and finally at our son, whose biracial identity seemed to intrigue them. Their expressions would shift from curiosity to a soft smile, as if they were calculating the dynamics of our multiracial family.
Some museum-goers appeared annoyed by our child’s presence; it seemed that nothing could disrupt the solemnity of viewing art by a Brown artist more than a small Brown boy nearly causing a trip. I occasionally questioned whether we had made the right choice in bringing our preschooler to such a serious exhibit.
Reflecting on my own childhood, I recalled the times my family took me to art museums. My favorite memory is a trip with my mother to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In 1998, her excitement to see the Unicorn Tapestries was palpable, even though I knew little about them. It took just one train ride to arrive at the famed museum, but for her, it was all about those seven tapestries, momentarily displayed far from their usual home.
We stood together in the vast gallery, surrounded by the enormous 14th-century fabrics. She explained their hidden religious themes, and we marveled at the intricate details, forging a bond that remains with me today.
Fast forward more than two decades, I learned about Hank Willis Thomas’ exhibit after attending a talk by curator and activist, Maya Reyes, at the Portland Art Museum. I had been captivated by Reyes’ work on social media and was eager to hear her insights. During her lecture, she emphasized the importance of making art accessible to individuals who often feel excluded from traditional art spaces—particularly Black and Brown communities. It struck me that, as a Black individual, I have always felt entitled to step into any gallery or museum.
Am I lucky? Certainly. Do I have a sense of entitlement? Yes, that too. And while it may seem boastful to mention the museums I’ve visited around the world, I do so to highlight the lesson my mother taught me: experiencing art is my birthright. And now, that same birthright is one my son will inherit.
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In summary, taking my biracial preschooler to a racially-charged art exhibit opened my eyes to the complexities of identity and belonging. It highlighted the importance of cultural experiences and the legacy I wish to pass down to him.