“Mommy, I don’t want to be black like you.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks, echoing through the aisles of the bath and beauty section at Target. I was awkwardly balancing on one foot, stretching to grab the last SheaMoisture Curl Enhancing Smoothie from the top shelf, when my daughter’s statement caught me off guard.
Instantly, I felt as if the entire store had turned to watch my reaction, as if a spotlight had illuminated the moment, and I imagined an announcement blaring over the intercom: “Attention Target shoppers. We have a black mother confronting an identity crisis on aisle 3. I repeat, a black mother confronting an identity crisis on aisle 3.”
Of course, that didn’t happen. Instead, I inhaled deeply, took my daughter’s hands, and embraced her.
In that fleeting moment, I was filled with dread. I didn’t want my daughter to reject her identity. Being a black woman in 2017 comes with its own set of challenges. It involves dismissing comments designed to provoke a reaction, navigating the complexities of double consciousness, and grappling with daily microaggressions that chip away at self-esteem. It means enduring the strain of being viewed as a model minority, all while knowing that someone may dismiss your experiences with a counter-argument.
My daughter, though young, is beginning to recognize the differences between her father and me, particularly our skin tones. This made our conversation vital; I needed to guide her narrative rather than allow the world to shape it for her.
Unlike me, my daughter is on a journey to understand her biracial identity—a paradox that can be hard to comprehend, even for adults. So there I stood in the Target aisle, taking a breath before asking, “Why don’t you want to be black, sweetheart?”
“I dunno,” she mumbled, gazing at her feet.
“Being black is not a bad thing,” I reassured her. “In fact, I’m black. Right?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you love Mommy, don’t you?” I continued. “Being a black girl means sometimes you have to fight battles that others don’t see. It’s like being a superhero—though we don’t always wear capes.”
Her eyes lit up, and she asked, “So if I’m black, does that mean I get a cape?”
I hugged her tightly, “Absolutely! You can have a matching one—just like me.”
In that moment, it dawned on me: it wasn’t that my daughter didn’t want to be black; she was just trying to make sense of her identity. I realize that I can’t shield her from the world’s perceptions, but I can instill in her a sense of self-love and pride in her heritage. It’s crucial for her to embrace every bit of melanin, regardless of its shade.
Often, I hear other parents say, “I don’t teach my children to see color,” and that worries me. The world is diverse, whether we acknowledge it or not. We can either have tough conversations with our kids early on or let society dictate their understanding of race. Just as I want my daughter to appreciate her heritage, I want her to understand and respect others as well. Understanding breeds appreciation.
As she grows, she will have more questions. I’ll be ready with better responses, knowing that parenting is a journey of learning and growth. Each moment brings the chance to improve, and sometimes, it truly does.
For more insights on navigating this journey, check out this article.
Also, for a deeper understanding of family-building options, this resource is invaluable.
In summary, the experience of my daughter questioning her identity was a pivotal moment that revealed the complexities of race and self-acceptance. It highlighted the importance of guiding our children through discussions about their heritage and the world they live in.