“Trust me, I was shocked too. I can’t count how many times I had to explain he wasn’t adopted, wasn’t my stepson, and wasn’t albino. That I was his mom – not the aunt, Godmother, or the nanny.”
‘When he was born I heard, ‘Oh my God. He has RED HAIR!’ I paused. ‘No, just wash him a few times.’ The nurse washed him 3 times. ‘No mama, you’ve got a little ginger.’
‘For us, he was only ever our son. Not our black son or adopted son. Even though most folks find him adorable right now, they might feel differently when he dates their daughters, or walks through the mall with his hoodie on.’
“He was 2 years old when a neighbor at a playgroup asked all the kids to go around the room and say what color they were. They all laughed when it was Eli’s turn, and he said he was white like everyone else did. They made sure he left knowing he wasn’t.”
‘A stranger helped me with my black daughter’s hair. I desperately want to do the right thing. Our world needs more people like this.’
“As a white mama, I felt like a failure. I was sure I was missing something simple.”
