This is just a quick note to the few who do read my blog. These post have a little different tone than the typical post that I do about adoption. I just wanted to interject how they relate. The stories that I will tell in this series of post point to why I developed a heart that beat loud and strong for young black children. It explains why I became so heavily involved in working with children by the time that I was 16 and why I was so committed to the idea of adoption at an early age.
I also think that I have a unique perspective on race, how it affects the self-identify of children, and what some of the long and short-term consequences are.
- I lived in an all black working-class neighborhood and went to an all white school in an upper middle-class neighborhood.
- My father married a white woman with three children in 1970's Indianapolis, so I was part of two transracial families from age 10 into adulthood. Whew...we survived it!
- My father's mother was mixed (Cherokee, Scottish, Black) and the politics of that were very present in almost all of my interactions with my grandmother. For black readers, my grandmother was COLOR STRUCK and not ashamed to let you know it.
- Both of my parents interacted socially with friends of different races but RARELY was race ever discussed in our home while I was growing up. Except for the white friends that were no longer allowed to visit my stepmother after she married a black man.
- I attended a black church where I was told that, "I could do all things through Christ..." That I was created in God's image and to never hide my light under a bushel.