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Interracial Love & Bi-racial Parenting

Now, let me preface this by saying that by no means do I consider myself the poster child for how interracial couples should present themselves, or how parents with biracial children should or should not raise their children.

I always want this blog to feel like a safe place. And, to be honest I thought this would be mostly surrounding my current battle with infertility. But I really want you all to get to know who I am, an in order to do that I have to be transparent with all parts of my life. So, bear with me as I navigate this new venture of blogging life and sharing my thoughts with you all.

A few days ago, someone made a comment on a video I posted of my husband, and it really got me thinking. My daughters are biracial, and I am very vocal about that on all of my social media platforms. For some reason this person was deeply offended by my choice of words when describing my own children. I wanted to simply take a moment to try and fully comprehend some of perceived assumptions she made about my life.

The first Assumption: Documenting my husband showing his support for black women on social media was praising him for doing the “bare minimum”.

If my husband were black would the video have seemed so offensive? Should we not praise black women being lifted up regardless of the color of the person doing the lifting? If we want anything in this nation to change, isn’t the ultimate goal to get more people who are like my husband? People who are willing to lift up others who don’t look like them unashamedly. 

Growing up black, I never wanted to be seen. I wanted to fit in with those around me. Even into adulthood I admittedly had these same feelings. And then I had my first daughter. Looking into her beautiful eyes made me look into my own. How on earth was I planning on raising a daughter, as a single mother and teach her to love herself unashamedly, when I had no idea how to do that for myself? I spend a year and a half picking up the pieces of my life and figuring out who I was all over again. And then I met Tim. 

Most black women would agree, that a white man showing interest in you, in most cases would feel confusing. It’s engrained in us, that white men are not attracted to black women. And if they do, it’s because we’ve changed the parts of us that make us strong black women (there’s no way he could love all the parts of you just the way you are). I promised myself I would be nothing but the most authentic version of myself when we started dating. I chose him because he didn’t disregard my color. He never told me “I don’t see color”. He saw me, he saw my color, and he gave me the safest place to continue growing into the woman I am today. I chose him because he wanted to learn about me and my culture. I chose him because his heart breaks at the injustices happening in the world. I chose a man that has every single quality I would hope for my children’s future forever, and that man just happens to be white. 

The second Assumption: My choice to describe my children as “mixed” and using such word as a hashtag on my social media posts means I am exploiting them and that this is merely my own fetish, and I am whitewashed.

The only thing I really have to say about this is that until you have walked my journey in my shoes, there is really nothing that can be said. This woman does not have children. Yet, she so ready to judge my parenting. My children are mixed and ask me why they don’t look like me. They know they are beautiful black queens. They also know that they are half white, and that is something that is ok for them to be proud of. 

My children have experienced strangers pulling me aside in public to question if they are mine, and witnessed comments about how they do not look like me. They have already experienced so much negativity surrounding who they are, and things about them that are completely out of their control. My oldest comes home and asks me why her hair isn’t like her white friend, but it’s also not like her black friend. She is at an age where she is trying to figure out where she fits in this world. She feels like she’s not just one or the other.

My feelings are sometimes ones that only other parents of mixed-race children can understand. I have to let my daughters take the lead with this. I can’t force them to identifying in a way that makes me feel more comfortable, especially when their choice is very much true to who they are. We are raising beautiful, independent girls who happen to be mixed. I post these words on my social media platforms because I want other mothers or people who share these feelings to be able to identify with the things we have experienced. That is my choice as a mother. I stand by my choices as a mother. This is my world, and I acknowledge that not everyone lives this same world as me. But I would hope that regardless of life’s circumstances, as women, as black women, or even just as people, we could spread love and support for others doing the best they can, instead of doing the opposite. Take that fire aimed at mothers making choices for their kids the best way they know, and save it for the actual injustices that are happening in this world today.

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This spoke to me on so many levels. I am the child of biracial parents who struggled to understand and own my blackness. I am now in an interracial relationship (my wife is Korean) and we plan to have children that reflect both our ethnicities. I love the honesty, passion and reflection in your stories as you (and I endeavor) to use social media platforms to inspire, educate and uplift others so that they might love themselves fully as well! Sharing this with my friends! Thank you for sharing this with us!

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