"Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Paul to the persecuted at Philippi (2:5-11)

31 August 2013

Strangers in the store

I grew up in the South.  The real South.  The kind of South where if a non-white person was in line at the post office, everyone looked, intently, and wondered who that person was.  They didn't mean it to be cruel, it was just unusual.  The same kind of look people gave us in Korea... the kind of look that says "I would know if I'd seen you before.  You don't look like us."

I grew up with the rest of Generation X in a time where noticing race was supposed to be taboo.  Everything after my rural Southern high school taught us to be "color blind."

And I just can't be color blind.  I think our modern society is slowly figuring out that no one really can be color blind and no one really should.  It's just that they should ALL be our favorite colors.  Why should I give up the opportunity to find Africans charming, Asians fascinating, Europeans educational, and South Americans friendly... and the opportunity to see that reflected in their descendants, Americanized and settled.

So I might notice you in the store.  Even if I'm in your neighborhood.  And if I notice you noticing me, I might smile (because that's the polite thing to do) and I'm just Southern enough that if we're waiting in line together I might even strike up a conversation, though I'm a little introverted so I might not, too.

And so I was in line in the store in a nearby, rather suburban, rather urban, rather hardscrabble neighborhood.  (How a place can be both urban and suburban is uniquely Pittsburgh, but if you've spent much time here, you know what I mean.)

In front of me was an older lady, racially some sort of African brown.  And definitely not upper class.  She was buying her food at the local grocery, counting out cash.  She made a tiny error... and her whole presence was just so positive that I looked up (my kids were driving me nuts) and everything about the woman next to me, who by all logic should have been a little stressed out and testy (as I myself was on the verge of being) was so gentle, I couldn't resist her.  I smiled and lest she think I was staring (the South dies hard) I went back to what I was doing... turning away, I could feel her smile back.

After she checked out, she came back into the store for something while I was checking out.  She slipped in behind my kids and my middle child practically backed into her.  And she did something so atypical of America in our generation... she gently put both hands on his shoulders and just radiated gentleness. 

Nobody would touch another person's kid these days... not even in such an innocent way.
And in our charged society, for a black woman to touch a white kid she doesn't know would be seen as asking for trouble.

But she wasn't on guard.
She was just being herself.
And it made me wish she was someone I knew. 

America, be more like that, please.  When it comes to race, and strangers in the store, and little mistakes and inconveniences that are just part of life, let down your guard and don't be afraid to smile.

And lady in the store, whoever you are, thanks for blazing the trail.

01 August 2013

Its Not What It Looks Like...

A few years ago, I reconnected with a friend I had known since middle school.  Upon seeing a photograph of my three kids (all of whom were born in the years when she and I were not in contact), she gently asked me "am I right to assume that the youngest is adopted?"  She was apologetic, not wanting to pry or give offence, but curious.

I replied, "well, since you know my husband, either you are assuming he's adopted or you're assuming I'm having an affair." 

Yes, he's adopted.  Its obvious.  He's Korean, the rest of us are not.

An acquaintance, the father of a few biological kids, a biracial adopted kid and an internationally adopted Haitian kid, told me how his wife gets dirty looks when she walks down the street.  People in our semi-urban town assume that she's a "baby mama" with multiple daddies.

Yesterday, a very young looking woman told me what I hear from so many young moms, that she, too gets dirty looks from people who assume she's "too young" to have a child.   She frantically assured me that she was old enough, assuming I would judge her, too.

And all of those people who make assumptions and give nasty looks to "baby mamas" in the streets... every one of them is contributing to the rise of abortion, parental depression, and poor outcomes for those kids.

Every. single. one.

If you're old enough to produce a baby, you're old enough to be a parent.  There's no age limit.  Where we fail is in enabling those parents to BE parents. 

The same day I met the twenty-four year old mama, I met a divorced, tattooed, pierced, (etc!) single dad, who told me how much he treasures the times he gets with his son.  He didn't look like the kind of guy who would bother to be the dad, but when he walked around with that kid on his hip, he made a bold statement... he was a dad.  He was young, and "cool" and whatever else he wanted to be, but he was also a dad and he was going to be the dad every chance he got.

Yes there are moral laws governing how we should express our sexuality, make and raise babies, and generally live our lives.  But a lot of time those babies come outside the system of moral laws, either because the parents don't subscribe to those laws or because they have at some point stumbled.  But babies, all babies, are a blessing.  And when parents (birth and adoptive) step up to BE the parents, how dare society judge that.

I want to say to every "baby mama" out there, every presumed loose woman who has a multitude of multiracial kids in tow whether via adoption, marriage, or moments of human frailty.. don't be afraid to stare the world back in the eye and be the mama (or daddy).