While shopping for apples at the local grocery store, I find myself fielding a question from a stranger. “So, are you their foster mom?” she inquires, pointing to my two children beside me. I feel a wave of annoyance and respond, “No, I’m their mom.” Her expression suggests she’s not satisfied with my answer, and I sigh, frustrated that she seems to think she has a right to know why a white woman is with two Black children.
As part of a large, multiracial family, I’ve grown accustomed to the questions that come our way. However, that doesn’t ease the irritation when strangers choose to treat our family outings as opportunities for interrogation. I’ve been questioned by TSA agents during airport security checks, with my belongings scattering across the conveyor belt, as they ask, “So, what’s up with your family?”
The inquiries can be bewildering. “Why didn’t their real parents want them?” “How much did your kids cost?” “Are they really siblings?” “Have you tried essential oils to get pregnant?” Some people even share their own experiences, like the time they adopted a cat and how fulfilling that was, as if it compares to raising children.
While we’ve received plenty of kind words and support – with people saying, “You have a beautiful family” or sharing their own adoption stories – there’s a fine line between connection and treating my kids like they’re on trial simply because they’re adopted and Black. My daughters particularly dislike when white women question them about their hair, sometimes reaching out to touch their cornrows without permission. We’ve taught them to assert themselves, saying things like, “Do not touch my hair,” while I firmly remind adults that they need to respect personal boundaries.
The reality is that while my children’s adoptions are visibly apparent, their individual stories are private and sacred. It’s not out of shame or embarrassment; their experiences belong to them and should not be up for public scrutiny.
I recall one particularly awkward moment during a gynecology appointment when a nurse half-whispered, “Are you going to tell them they’re adopted?” I couldn’t help but respond, “They can hear you, and they’ll figure it out!” My kids have understood their adoption since they were in our arms, and I want to protect their dignity.
Another time, a woman in a checkout line asked, “Are they real sisters?” I couldn’t contain my frustration and simply replied, “Yes.” But she pressed further, demanding, “But are they really real sisters?” I swiftly took my daughters’ hands and left, explaining to them that they never have to answer such intrusive questions.
Even at a restaurant, I’ve encountered overly enthusiastic waitstaff asking if I was babysitting my own child. These experiences highlight that while people may be curious about our family dynamics, it’s imperative to set boundaries. Just as we wouldn’t want strangers prying into our personal lives, the same courtesy should extend to our children.
If you’re interested in learning about adoption, there are many resources available, such as the CDC’s excellent guide on reproductive health and infertility, which can be helpful. Additionally, for those exploring home insemination options, check out this insightful post on intracervical insemination for more information.
Ultimately, there are countless topics we can discuss, but my kids’ adoption stories are not open for public debate.
In summary, while the visibility of my kids’ adoptions may invite questions, their personal histories remain private. Respecting their stories is essential, and we can engage in meaningful conversations without breaching their dignity.