Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Too Dark
So how dark is too dark? Irrelevant, right? A kid’s a kid. An orphan’s an orphan. Or so I thought. I was so happy to get an actual child that I never thought about skin color before I became an adoptive mom although later, through the years and in many varied ways, I realized what a big deal skin color was — more to the point — what a big deal the difference in skin color was to other people and sometimes, even us.
So one day while I was skipping through daisies, I was asked by a respected friend of a friend to talk to yet another friend about the problems she was experiencing with her adoption. Sure. A lot of adoptive parents say they are barraged by calls like this. I never was. Maybe people took one look at my kids and got skeptical about my advice-giving potential.
In any event, I settled in at the kitchen table to hear this woman out. Mellow. Cool. I so know the adoption business, hey.
“I think the baby might be too dark for our family,” she said, right off the bat. The baby in question was from Central or South America, not sure. She had visited the baby twice, held the baby, spent time with him. But she was absolutely stuck on this color thing. “I’m worried he won’t be accepted,” she added, making me wonder if it was the family’s acceptance at issue or her own. “He’s so much darker.”
“And the summer will just make him darker,” I said. “A couple of hours in the sun and both of my sons nearly look African-American.” Looking back, this might be why people never called me for advice – my fondness for oneupsmanship. Hey, you think your kid’s dark? You should see mine!
We knew that skin color was important in Nicaragua where our kids were from. Lighter skinned children were more highly regarded, thought to look more European. Darker kids with more predominant Indian and African origins – like the son whose arm is in this picture – were kind of looked down upon. An interesting sociological fact to me – not much else. I adored those boys.
Finally, after listening to her explain all the reasons why this baby’s dark skin would be a problem, I said, “I think if you feel that he’s too dark for your family, you shouldn’t adopt him.” And she was glad I said it. And I think it was actually the right advice. That boy deserved better – orphan or not. But in my heart I was incredulous that her gratitude to God for finding her this baby didn’t trump the fear of her family’s disapproval. That she couldn’t find that magic place of happiness where she didn’t give a shit what her parents thought or her next door neighbors. Pity. I don’t know what she did. Maybe she went ahead anyway. Maybe not.
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
My biological son looks nothing like me because he is biracial/black. I have an adopted daughter who is blue eyed and pale like me and an adopted daughter who is black. You are so right! Love doesn’t come in any color. “All the Colors of the Race” by Arnold Adoff is a great short book of poems regarding this issue of skin color and family identity. Adoff is married to author Virginia Hamilton.
Your answer to the lady was right on.