Thoughts on Being the White Mom of Black Girls

So, with my girls being at ages in which they notice and talk about skin color now, it becomes unavoidable to think about.  Let me be clear.  It is not that we don't talk about race, skin color, ethnicity, birth countries, etc., in our house.  We do and always have.  It is a natural part of our life to talk about our similarities and our differences and how there are many different types of ways to build a family and many different ways to become a family.

And yet...  Ugh.

I sometimes let the gnawing fear of the inevitable consume me.  I signed up to be the transracial family.  I knew that my kids would be black and I would remain white when we decided to adopt.  I didn't realize, however, until I experienced it, read about it, saw it with my own eyes what racism really looks like.

Nothing has happened recently to make me think about these things...  More like, sometimes I find myself worrying about when the day will come in which one or both of my children experience it and understand it for what it is for the first time.  I picture MY daughters whom I love so very much coming home crying because someone was mean to them at school or at a park or in a store simply because of the color of their skin.  I was up late into the night last night thinking about it and playing scenarios over and over in my head.

It makes me nauseous to know I'm powerless to stop it and that there is NOTHING I can do to prevent it.  It is part of growing up black in our country.  I wish sometimes I could keep them tiny forever.  R will be in kindergarten next month, and this is a huge fear I have as she leaves her loving preschool environment for the big kids' school.  And the year after, my precious E will join her.

I know I could be proactive about it and talk to the girls about what to do in those types of situations...  But I look them in their eyes and don't want to be the one to take away their beautiful innocence by talking to them about the ugliness of the world and the ugliness they will some day experience.  So, there is the line, and I don't know if I want to cross it.  Is it worse to have your mom tell you about this type of thing or to have it happen to you from a stranger, a friend, a kid in the neighborhood or at school?

I mean, the girls know that if someone is mean to you or hurts you that you can and should tell Mommy and Daddy or a teacher or other adult.  It is just that in my house, we don't see the differences in ourselves negatively, but we also do not ignore them.

I just hate so much that this even has to be an issue.  My girls are amazing for many reasons, one of which is because they are black.  But that is just one.  There is so much more to them, to all of us, than skin color.