Let's Talk About Race

This blog may ramble a bit, but then that’s how I roll. It’s also LONG.

Until I got to college, I only knew three black people: my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Richardson; a girl in my third grade class, Tara Mitchell (wish I knew where she was now - I can't imagine what her childhood was like being the only black child in a tiny, white community); and a boy in my high school who had been adopted by a white family. I don’t even know his name. When I got to college, I made two more black friends: Stacey Corley and Mohammed Elewonibi, both members of the BYU football team. (My dad was a graduate assistant with the team at the time.) Unfortunately, I’ve lost contact with both of them since then. They would be great role models for my kids. I was fortunate to be raised near Ute and Navajo Indian reservations, so many of my childhood friends/teammates were Native Americans.

Moe and me at my high school 5-year reunion (goofball!). I confess I mostly took him because of his Superbowl ring.

My mom and Moe on his Harley. (Few things are as funny as seeing my mom on a Harley.)

I was raised by parents who despite our lack of exposure to diversity, taught me to judge people by who they were on the inside. I even remember when I was about 12 years old asking my mom what she’d think if I married a black man. (I have no idea where this question came from since I didn’t know any black men at that time.) She replied that God saw all of us as equals, but that when two cultures intermarried, it was usually more complicated than if someone married within their same culture. She had this same discussion with me later years later when I fell in love with a Mexican man who didn’t speak English. 

Yep, he was a hottie.

I think the bulk of my cultural diversity training came when I served an LDS mission in Argentina and later when I lived in Mexico. For the first time, I was immersed in a culture that was not my own. I came to love it like my own. For the first time, I realized what it was to appreciate differences and to realize that we’re not “all the same” and that’s okay.

I worked with these awesome young women in Los Cabos, Mexico. Love them!

The term “white privilege” used to raise the hackles on the back of my neck. I refused to believe that such a thing really existed. If you want to read about white privilege, you can do so HERE. Personally, I think that some of the items in this article are no longer relevant; however, white privilege definitely still exists. If you don’t believe me, take a peek at the hair product section of your local grocery store and notice how small the ethnic section is. (And don’t tell me it’s just a matter of supply and demand. That’s simply not true. I wouldn’t go to Target for Kinky Kurly if it wasn’t the only place I could go to find it.)

Hair Aisle

Ethnic Section - and this is better than many.

If you need further proof, and even if you don’t, I suggest you watch the powerful video below.

Like many other white Utah Mormons (I realize I am stereotyping here), I tended to overcompensate when crossing paths with a black person of my faith, becoming overly friendly in my attempt to show that I wasn’t prejudiced. I didn’t realize that this wasn’t the right approach either. It was still treating someone differently based on their race, and I have since learned it often causes the person receiving the attention to feel uncomfortable.

As a white woman, I often felt – and still feel – like I’m walking on eggshells when talking about race. It’s kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. But once I became the mother of a beautiful little girl with brown skin, I had to dig my head out of the sand and try to navigate these muddy waters. I’ve learned a lot, but I still make mistakes and will continue to do so. Adopting my children didn’t make me an expert on race.

With Baylie starting kindergarten and leaving the cocoon that is our home, I can only hope that I’ve provided her with the tools she needs to be successful and believe in herself. (Okay, I know that sounds dramatic. It’s not like she’s going off to college, but I still feel like she’s out in the cold, cruel world now.) Some transracial families we know of go into their children’s’ classrooms each year and do a presentation on adoption and transracial families. David and I decided we didn’t want to do that. We don’t want Baylie to be singled out in anyway. Instead, we talked to her teacher and let her know that if she notices that Baylie is uncomfortable being asked about adoption or about our family, to let us know so we could address it from there.

Over the past five years, I have heard many people say that I need to talk to my kids often about race and racism, particularly when they start school. I haven’t been sure how to do that. Whenever we go to the library, I make sure that we check out several books with brown children in them, usually including one on slavery or discrimination. I haven’t made a big deal out of this; I’ve just talked about it as we read the books. We’ve tried to make it a normal and natural topic of conversation in our home so that our kids will always feel comfortable talking about it with us. We also had the opportunity to visit the Civil Rights Museum in Greensboro, NC.

Last night for Family Home Evening, we decided to have a talk about race and racism and diversity in general, including disabilities. Our kids are only 5 and 3, so it’s not like it was a deep discussion. We talked about how God loves everyone and so should we. For the first time, we talked about the fact that in their lives, they may come across people who treat them badly because of the color of their skin. We talked about the fact that there may be people who do not think we should be a family. (Baylie’s response: “Oh yes we should because we’ve been sealed in the temple!”) I was really surprised and pleased with Baylie’s responses and her understanding of the discussion. (Jalen was pretty much oblivious, which is fine for now.) We tried to make sure they understood that if someone ever treats them this way, it is not their fault. We tried to make sure they know that if that happens, they should tell us. We talked about the difference between normal teasing and racism. I guess we won’t know how effective it really was until/unless we come across a situation where we face racism or prejudice. It’s a fine line because I want my children to know that racism isn’t okay, but I don’t want them to be offended where no offense is intended. Overall, it was a good discussion and I think a good doorway for future discussions.

I’m still dreading the first time someone calls one of my beautiful children the n-word or the first time someone won’t let my child date their child. I still hold out hope that we have evolved to the point that this will never happen, although I realize that is naïve and unlikely.

And while I don’t like to dish out advice to other parents, I would ask you this – have you ever specifically talked to your kids about race? If not, I would ask you to please do it! It’s like the sex talk - you can skirt around the topic, assuming they’ll figure it out eventually, but if you want to make sure they have a healthy attitude about it, talk to them yourselves. Don’t avoid it or assume they know how you feel. Studies have proven that this approach does not work. Don’t tell them that we are “all the same.” We’re not. Teach them that we’re different, and that it’s okay. If you want a good place to start, read THIS.

Thank you.