It was a few years ago when we all went out together for breakfast as an official family.
My daughter and I were in Cleveland visiting my husbands (then boyfriend’s) family. We were introduced to his son and the next day we decided to go out for breakfast. J suggested a dim sum place that he knew of and we all trekked there on a late Saturday morning.
The menu was in Chinese and althouhg none of us could speak it, my J took the lead and ordered a for all of us. A cart of goodies up and J made a few more selections and our table was filled with small oval plates and bamboo steams. Aside from the spring rolls everything there was new to me and I tried almost everything. The most curious thing was a plate that had a big rectangular leaf on it.
“What is that?” I asked.
J unfolded the leaf to reveal rice. It looked brown and sticky. I raised my eyebrow; I was definitely unsure of and uncertain whether I was going to try it.
“It’s sweet rice,” J said and scooped some on my plate. “Try it, it’s good.”
Immediately everyone dug in but me. “Taste it, mom,” my daughter urged. She was already on seconds.
I dug my fork in and tasted it (I was also the only one at the table with western utensils) and had to admit it wasn’t half bad. By the time I was on my second serving I was hooked. It wasn’t rice the way I was used to seeing it, but I was pleasantly surprised.
It is also the way it is now with families in the 21st century. Families aren’t monochromatic as the majority of them were at the turn of the last century. With the rise of interracial marriages over the last thirty years parents and children come in an array of colors and black mothers’ children have always had children with hues from cafe au lait to dark chocolate. But still when some see brown skinned mothers with children whose color doesn’t quite match the first question they ask is, “Are you the nanny?”
This is a blog for black women who are raising Blasian and Asian children. For kids who don’t necessarily look like us, but are still fiercely ours. We are natural mothers, adoptive mothers and stepmothers from different parts of the United States who have come together to ruminate on what it’s like to raise a multiracial child in the new millennium. Some people just assume that one drop of black blood makes you black or that black mothers should just raise their children to be black to the exclusion of everything else. In doing that it would deny the children their father’s heritage and an essential other part of who they are.
As you read our blogs we hope to not only connect with you but also for others to see our families are just like yours. The presentation might be different, but whats inside is tastes as sweet.