If you're involved in the transracial adoption world, you have more than likely heard of or experienced the bead activity. Basically you take an empty clear cup and fill it with beads to represent people. Each color of bead represents a different race, and you put beads in the cup to symbolize your dentist, doctor, spiritual leaders, neighbors, etc. By the end, you have an understanding of how diverse your world is. If Chris and I had done this activity prior to adoption, our cup would have been 100% white. The diversity was only increased by the addition of our two Black sons. Two beads of color in a sea of white. Have you ever had the experience of being the only person like you in a certain scenario? Maybe you're the only Iowa State fan in a family full of Hawkeyes. Maybe you're the only female in a workplace full of males. Maybe you're the only Muslim in a classroom full of Christians. That experience can feel isolating and sometimes scary. Of course we are adaptive creatures and can more than likely adjust eventually, maybe even discovering empowerment. But isn't there something comforting in looking at someone with shared experiences and without even exchanging a word, knowing they "get" you? When Chris and I entered the terminal for Ethiopian Airlines at the airport in Washington, DC, it was one of the first moments in my life where I was one of only a few white people in a room filled with people of color. It was exhilarating because we were preparing to visit the birth country of our soon-to-be sons, and the diversity of language and skin color was a beautiful reminder of what heaven would surely be. Of course we spent those few days in Addis Ababa with extra attention as the "ferengi," but the Ethiopians warmly welcomed us with smiles and coffee ceremonies. We weren't bombarded with unwelcome questions or requests to touch our hair or skin. And of course after those few days, we returned home to our world of white where we would soon bring our children. Our neighbors and friends welcomed our sons with open arms and kindness. Our boys received services and attention at school and church. They were known and loved, but they were often the only people of color in pretty much every scenario we put them in. From sports teams to summer camps, our church home to our school family, our boys rarely had a racial mirror other than each other and a few other international adoptees in our community. As we tried to navigate a world of racial disparities and inequalities, our boys had to learn lessons about taking care of their Black skin and being a young Black man in America from two white people just trying to do the best we could. I often tell others that our agency did a fantastic job preparing us as best they could for the realities of early childhood trauma and what that might look like for our children. They did not, however, do an adequate job of preparing us for the realities of raising children of color in a nearly all-white community. Eventually, the idea of moving came up again and again in conversations between Chris and me. In the car or at night after the boys were tucked in bed, we began to research potential destinations that would provide opportunities for more beads of color in our cup. And then we made the leap. I will be honest in saying that this decision came with a side order of sacrifice. We left behind a support network of friends and family, including the blessing of "doing life" with my sister and her crew. I closed the door on many years of a successful career as a high school English teacher with coworkers who were my friends and confidants and many students who made my work feel like play. Chris said goodbye to the flexibility of owning his own business and, for the most part, setting his own schedule, a dream for family life. Our boys left behind the only sense of stability they had ever known in their young lives, including a network of solid friendships and teachers who knew them. And of course we miss those things. We would all be lying if we said we didn't. I still cry when I think about missing my niece's junior high volleyball games and sharing a knowing smile with my nephew in the high school hallways. While we're growing our network here, adult friendships take time and energy, two things that are often in deficit in our busy lives. Time and time again, however, our children are in a sea of color, and all of those tiny sacrifices become so worth it. This summer I found myself at awards ceremonies at the end of basketball camp where I was one of two white adults in a gym. My boys are playing on a flag football team full of children of color. We have a Black family practice doctor and a rec center up the street staffed almost entirely by people of color. My sons are no longer finding themselves in that isolating role as the only. We have a church with a diverse staff and congregation, and better yet, we have co-lead pastors who frequently address race and the Gospel. I'm not here to tell other adoptive families that they absolutely must move, that an urban environment is the only way to go if you are trying to raise kids of color in today's word. I'm just saying that our cup has more colorful beads today, and we are so thankful.
4 Comments
Greg Stevens
10/3/2017 10:20:50 am
You write with such clarity and insight. My beads would still mostly be white, but I would have a lot of different colors for those in my table tennis club.
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Lori Haffner
10/3/2017 10:24:44 pm
Kim, you and Chris are amazing wonderful people...I can only dream of having someone like you for parents and family. You always put the boys first and it shows...you are the strongest couple I know..I can say for John and I that our cup would have colors in it and I am very honored to say that....God Bless You All Always....such unconditional love....I love to read our writings....they always touch my heart and often make me warm....thank you for sharing your life with us....
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Marlys
10/4/2017 09:00:57 pm
Thanks! Your story is one filled with love and I am happy for your family! Think of your boys often and know that God is directing your paths. He is a faithful Father!
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