“Are you their foster mom?” a woman inquired as I picked out apples at the grocery store, glancing at the two children beside me.
“No,” I responded, feeling a wave of irritation. She lingered, seemingly dissatisfied with my answer, blocking my cart’s path. I exhaled and clarified, “I’m their mom.” My frustration stemmed not from the role of fostering—an important and honorable endeavor—but from her presumption to question why a white woman was with two Black children.
Questions about our multiracial family are something I encounter often, but that doesn’t lessen the annoyance when strangers feel entitled to pry into our lives during a simple outing to the park or library. I’ve even experienced it in the most inappropriate situations, like during an airport security check when a TSA agent asked, “What’s up with your family?” while I was being patted down.
“Could you ever give your kids away? Why didn’t their biological parents want them? My neighbor’s brother adopted a child, and that kid turned out to be a handful. Why didn’t you adopt a white baby? Which country are your kids from? I’ve always wanted to adopt a Black baby,” are just a few examples of the probing remarks we’ve received. Other questions like, “How much did your kids cost?” or “Are they real siblings?” only add to the discomfort. Some even suggest alternatives like essential oils to help with fertility issues, or share their personal stories of adoption, as if a cat adoption is comparable to the profound experience of adopting a child.
While not every inquiry is ill-intentioned—many people simply compliment our family or share their own adoption experiences—there’s a significant difference between a friendly connection and treating my family as if we’re under scrutiny because of our racial dynamics.
My daughters particularly dislike when white women question them about their hair. We’ve faced microaggressions, with adults feeling entitled to touch my daughters’ cornrows. They’ve learned to assert themselves, saying, “Do not touch my hair,” and I’ve intervened directly, stating, “Do not touch my children.” Though curiosity might be their excuse, the intent doesn’t matter. If they’re not touching, they bombard us with questions like:
- “Who does your hair? Can your mom braid? How long does that style take? I could never sit still that long!”
Such inquiries are inappropriate and invasive. No adult should treat children like they’re on trial, nor should they presume to demand answers from kids of color, thinking my presence somehow grants them access.
Many fail to grasp that while my children’s adoptions are visibly evident, their personal stories are not for public consumption. This isn’t due to shame or embarrassment, but because those narratives belong solely to them. They are sacred and not up for judgment or admiration.
Some experiences have been bizarre, like a gynecological appointment where a nurse whispered if I planned to tell my kids about their adoption. I pointed out that my children were within earshot and, given our different skin tones, they’d likely figure it out. My kids have known since they were in our arms.
Another incident occurred in a grocery store checkout line when a woman asked, “Are they real sisters?” I was taken aback, but quickly replied, “Yes.” When she pressed for clarification, I was filled with rage at her questioning the reality of my daughters’ relationship and our family. I took my girls’ hands and left the store, affirming to them that they could always respond with, “That’s none of your business.”
Once, while dining with friends, a waitress blurted, “Are you babysitting?” before taking our drink order. I shot back, “Nope! She’s mine!” Her excitement over my daughter being adopted was loud and over-the-top. I rolled my eyes at my husband, redirecting her to take our orders.
I understand that our family attracts attention, especially now that there are six of us. We are a lively, noticeable group, and yes, our differences in skin tone stand out. While it’s perfectly natural to notice adoption or race, it crosses a line when curiosity morphs into an intrusive need to know.
When discussing adoption, I’m open to sharing general insights. It’s essential to foster understanding about the various types of adoption and what the process entails. However, it’s unacceptable to demand intricate details regarding my children’s adoption stories.
Consider this: how would you feel if someone approached you, demanding to know your weight, habits, financial situation, or personal history? It’s invasive and inappropriate. Each child’s adoption story is intertwined with their identity. They will navigate their narratives throughout their lives and don’t need strangers dictating how they should feel or pressuring them for details.
There are countless other topics available for discussion—but my kids’ adoption stories will not be one of them.
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Summary
Our family dynamic has led to countless intrusive questions about adoption and race, often making my children feel uncomfortable. While curiosity is natural, the details of my children’s adoption stories belong to them alone. It’s vital to respect their privacy, as these narratives are integral to their identities.