Race Matters

 

My brain is jam packed with imaginations of our future life with kids.  Mainly, I imagine the happy moments – that first day when the crawl becomes a walk; trips to the park;  clunky, awkward but fun school performances; pancakes and cartoons on a rainy Saturday morning – stuff like that. Other times, my mind conjures up less pleasant, but nevertheless very real images. I imagine the first tearful moment when some snot-nosed kid at school calls us or our child a fag.  I can see that first and scary trip to the hospital because of a fever or broken bone or allergic reaction.  I remember some of my days as a sulky teenager, and I foresee a little bit of payback as our child approaches the teen years.

Though the images are all very different, there is one thing they have in common. I’ve never pictured our child being white. Never.  Black, yes. Latino, yes. Biracial, yes. White? Nope. Never.