One evening, my spouse, Lisa, was curled up on the couch, tears streaming down her face. I gently inquired about what was troubling her, but she remained silent for a moment. I suspected she was dealing with some of the emotional challenges that often accompany pregnancy, the kind that can make an expectant mother worry about everything from health issues to social acceptance. Finally, she whispered, “What if our child doesn’t resemble me? People might think I’m just the babysitter.”
I’m Black, and Lisa is white. We have three wonderful children. Our youngest, just 18 months old, has dark eyes and that intriguing, racially ambiguous skin tone that often leaves people guessing. Our two older children, ages 3 and 4, both have blue eyes and fair skin. While my gender makes it less likely for people to mistake me for their caregiver, I often receive puzzled looks, as if they’re unsure whether I’m their dad or just a random guy with two toddlers.
As the father of two biracial children, everyday interactions can turn into unexpected moments of curiosity. At the playground, a young Asian woman gawked at us, finally summoning the courage to ask, “Where did the kids come from?” If I had been quicker on my feet, I could have replied with something humorous, but I was caught off guard and simply said, “They’re my kids… from just down the street.” At an African restaurant, the owner took my credit card, which featured the boys’ photos, and immediately questioned my connection to them. He ominously noted, “If they marry white women, their kids will be all white. All your blackness…gone.” I nodded, signed the receipt, and made a mental note to tip him less. Then there was the encounter at the mall, where a white woman exclaimed, “Just look at their eyes!” As my kids retreated into their usual shyness, she pressed on, “Where’d they get eyes like that?” Before I could intervene, she added, “I want some like that!”
Only our eldest, 4-year-old Jaden, has started to grapple with the concept of race, partly inspired by his obsession with music videos. After watching the “Black or White” video countless times, he asked, “What color is my skin?” My instinct was to tell him he’s Black. After all, he was named after a river in Africa. He participates in family traditions and drives a toy version of a flashy car! However, I realized I had internalized the one-drop rule more than I thought. This outdated notion suggests that even a single drop of African heritage qualifies someone as Black, regardless of their appearance.
I’ve seen biracial individuals struggle with this concept, often feeling out of place in both Black and white communities. Just look at the backlash faced by celebrities like Raven-Symoné and Taye Diggs when they expressed their racial identities.
So, we decided to let Jaden choose his own racial identity, irrespective of his skin tone. Lisa encouraged him to think about it: “What color do you believe you are?” His bewildered smile led to a heartfelt response: “Black, Mama.” I felt a rush of pride, similar to the joy of seeing a Black family win on a game show. It’s not that I disregard Lisa’s background; it’s just that, unfortunately, Blackness is often seen negatively. I was relieved that Jaden hadn’t adopted this perspective, which numerous studies indicate is common among children.
In truth, my three boys could identify as either white, biracial, or Black, and I hope they have the freedom to define themselves without facing judgment. This ideal may seem naïve in today’s society, but progress is made every day. After all, look how far we’ve come, even in matters of love and family. Perhaps, just like the timeless message in Michael Jackson’s music, we are all learning to embrace our identities.
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In summary, navigating the complexities of raising biracial children involves allowing them the freedom to choose their own racial identities. As a parent, I hope to support my kids in their self-definition journey, fostering an environment where they can embrace all aspects of their heritage.