“I’m sure the last thing you expected was to be living with two gay white guys, but here we are.”
My son had been living with my husband and me for less than a year when I said those words to him. My son is African-American. My husband and I are white…and gay. The conversation began after my then-13 year old was caught doing something he should not have been doing; it was a minor infraction, but it led us to this elephant in the room.
Having tiptoed around so many things for so many months, as is often the case in the early days of foster placement and adoption, our conversation turned to perceptions. The world looked at my husband and me, two gay men, and they made assumptions and conclusions. The world looked at my son, a young black man, and they made assumptions and conclusions. And I’m sure, the world sometimes looked at our family and thought, “WTF?”
But here we are.
I struggle with my whiteness and I struggle with my son’s blackness and I struggle with where the two intersect. We do not live in a post-racial society. We do not live in a colorblind world. Racism surrounds us and it is in every one of us, and until we acknowledge these facts we will never be free from it.
Transracial adoption refers to the adoption of a child that is of a different race than that of the adoptive parents. When you adopt a child of a different race it is impressed upon you that you have a responsibility to keep your child connected to his/her culture…and I can tell you after watching several Tyler Perry movies that this is easier said than done.
Now, that Tyler Perry line may seem like a joke, but it’s also kind of true. We’ve been advised in the past by “those in the know” to watch African-American movies and television shows with our black children, to listen to rap music together, to go to the barbershop—as if performing any of these superficial activities would bridge the racial divide or keep my kids connected to their blackness.
I just can’t help but think that being black in America is about more than watching BET or listening to Kanye or going to the barbershop. Actually, the barbershop is really important and, as someone who once allowed a white lady at a BoRics to cut their black son’s hair, I am telling you that you should always take your kid to the barbershop.
The truth is when someone tells me I need to keep my black son connected to his culture, it scares me because do they mean the culture that survived slavery and died for Civil Rights and gave us Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman and Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks and Colin Kaepernick and Katherine Johnson and Barack Obama…or do they mean a culture that worships a gangster lifestyle and calls women bitches and starts each morning getting high like the dozens of black teenagers I see every day in the city before school starts? Because I celebrate the former while the latter scares the hell out of me.
Of course if I’m being honest about my issues with black culture then I have to ask myself, why do we demonize black gangster culture but celebrate white gun culture? Why are the black men on my bus who refer to women as bitches any more offensive than our white President who brags about grabbing women by the pussy? And are the black teens getting high outside my office before school any different than the white kids in the suburbs taking oxy before school?
The truth is there is much that unites us in our respective cultures, and if we are going to move forward we need to raise up our collective successes and acknowledge our shared failures.
I want my son to be a strong, proud black man and I understand that means keeping him connected to his roots. Taking him to the barbershop. Tuning the car radio to the urban station. Encouraging him to surround himself with people who look like him who can give him the things I cannot. Lifting up leaders like Barack Obama and Colin Kaepernick. And yes, even watching another goddamn Tyler Perry movie.
But also understanding there exists in modern day black culture, as much as there is in modern day white culture, a pervasive ugliness that threatens to swallow up our children. I believe my son will raise the bar but I also understand that when he fails to, when he finds himself swimming in that ugliness, it is not the end of the world.
My son is a leader, but he has yet to realize the awesome power of his presence and influence. He will make mistakes, and I will make mistakes, but all his father and I can do is give him the tools to make better choices. And that desire that every parent of every color has for their child to succeed, to do better, to be the best part of them—that desire transcends community and culture and race.
It may be the one thing that truly unites us all.
Sean Michael O’Donnell is 44 year old married gay man. He lives in Pittsburgh with his husband, three sons, and daughter. Sean enjoys Law & Order reruns, Christmas movies in October, and Facebook stalking. He likes donuts and beer. Sometimes he goes to the gym. He is the author of the best-selling book Which One of You is the Mother?