I’m Not the Caregiver, So Please Stop Asking

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“Wow, he’s adorable! Are you his caregiver?”

Throughout the first year and a half of my child’s life, this question came up at least two or three times a week. Once my son started speaking, the puzzled expressions began when he referred to me as “Mommy.” They no longer asked if I was the caregiver, but it was clear they struggled to accept me as his mother. We still encounter those bewildered looks.

Sometimes I want to wave frantically and declare, “Yes, I’m a black woman. Yes, I am his mother. He came from my body, and if you ask me if I’m his damn caregiver again, I might just lose it!” But I usually just nod and move on, choosing not to indulge their curiosity.

After four years of this, nothing really shocks me anymore, but that doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly frustrating. It’s not just me; it’s a common experience for all mothers of color with mixed-race children who resemble their other parent.

Not long ago, a video went viral featuring a little girl interrupting her father during an important live broadcast on BBC. A flustered woman rushed in to retrieve her, only to be followed by another child in a walker. As the video circulated, many referred to her as “the nanny” simply because she was Asian, and the man being interviewed was white. Once it was revealed that she was, in fact, the mother of the children, some tried to justify their initial assumption by citing her behavior. But let’s not gloss over the underlying issue here.

Women of color are often seen as “the caregiver” until proven otherwise. When I’m out with my son, I frequently find myself labeled as “the nanny” until I clarify, “Oh, no, he’s mine!”

A quick search on popular stock photo sites using the term “mixed race family” reveals that about 75 percent of the images feature a family with a father of color and a white mother. According to Essence magazine, black men are twice as likely to date outside their race compared to black women, but that doesn’t mean black women don’t date interracially. Many of my friends in interracial relationships are women of color. This makes it all the more perplexing that people assume a black woman (or any woman of color) with a child who resembles their father’s race is just a caregiver.

It’s both ignorant and inconsiderate to question a stranger about their child’s parentage. I can’t believe I even have to point that out, but here we are.

The lack of representation of mothers of color with mixed children is a systemic issue. I’ve had children approach me and my son, asking, “Why is your son white?” Thankfully, I handle these inquiries with patience, explaining gently that his father is white and that he takes after him in skin tone. However, this highlights the reality that many people neglect to educate their children about the diversity of family structures.

As my son approaches school age, I can only imagine the questions he’ll face from his peers. I refuse to teach him to simply tolerate this line of questioning. I don’t care if that makes me an “asshole” in some eyes; he has no obligation to answer questions about “What are you?” while trying to navigate life.

Being a mother of color, particularly a black mother with a fair-skinned child, presents its own challenges. When I mention that my son may present as white, it often makes people uncomfortable. While some insist he looks just like me, it’s important to acknowledge that he also resembles his father, and that diversity in appearance is completely valid.

Acknowledging the differences in experiences between a black mother with a fair-skinned child and a white mother with mixed children (regardless of their skin tone) isn’t a sign of defensiveness or sensitivity; it’s simply reality. A white mother of mixed children isn’t typically labeled as “the caregiver” upon first glance, nor is she frequently questioned about her children’s skin tones.

This isn’t my first time discussing this topic. Women of color often face invalidation for expressing their feelings and opinions on these matters. Common responses include, “Can’t you just be grateful for your child?” or “Why do you care what others think?” But the key question remains: Why do people feel entitled to pry into my life and my child’s identity? Compliments about my son are always welcome—he is adorable, witty, and bright—but when the conversation veers into invasive territory regarding his parentage or our relationship, that’s when the line is crossed, and such behavior deserves to be addressed.

Discussing these frustrating experiences does not make me or other women of color overly sensitive. We are not required to simply “get over” the ignorance and curiosity of others.

I’m not the caregiver, and I owe you no explanations.

For more insights on family dynamics and the complexities of parenting, you can check our other blog posts, including ones on home insemination and family planning, like this one. And if you’re looking for authoritative information on the topic, visit Make a Mom’s guide for an in-depth look at home insemination kits. Additionally, for anyone interested in understanding infertility treatments, this resource is excellent.

Summary

The experience of being a mother of color, particularly with mixed-race children, includes facing assumptions and invasive questions about one’s relationship with their child. The article highlights the frustration and ignorance surrounding these stereotypes, emphasizing the importance of representation and understanding in familial structures. It calls for respect and recognition of diverse family dynamics without the need for unsolicited inquiries or judgments.