Sometimes when I read the comments on one of my postings I am struck right away and then I process it and figure out how I’m going to deal with it. It doesn’t always come with that caveat, but then there are times when I listen to something that a person shares and I can’t shake it. This is one I cannot shake.
Jenny (known to many as Miss Grace or Miss Disgrace, however one is feeling), whose son is biracial, told me that when people meet her son for the first time they usually trail off when they’re publicly questioning his ethnicity. Gabe is, without a doubt, a beautiful child. Stunning, even. People are quick to compliment him (and, by proxy, Jenny) on his looks by saying, “He’s beautiful!” and then they take off their shoe and bend their leg just so and they stick their foot right in their mouth when they add, “Is he…?”
But they never finish their sentence. Their words trail off as if they’re walking away and you can’t hear them anymore. Eyebrows arched, they lean in with a you know attitude because you know what they’re trying to ask without them actually saying it. I can recall many such conversations my mother had to have with people when they asked her the same question if my father wasn’t around us girls. Granted, that was the 70s in the highly progressive neighborhood of Hyde Park in Chicago. What they’re doing, in the not asking, is really shameful. Failing to even complete their thought is probably nature’s way of saying SHUT. UP. Still, they persist in their curious ignorance of asking such a personal question. In my mind, they are most likely whispering it the way people do when they are bringing up sensitive issues.
She really got me thinking about this and how best to respond. Jenny is a sweet, kind woman. She sings Arlo Guthrie with her kid. She writes hilarious reviews of bra shopping complete with crayon drawings of bras. I cannot claim the same virtues. Not the singing nor the drawing nor the sweet kindness. But I still wanted to offer up a retort that she could respond with when this happens and people want her to finish their sentence about her son’s ethnicity. I think that when they do that she should jump in super fast and finish it with “…RETARDED? Is he retarded?”
Because retarded is a horrible word that I was never allowed to say as a child and I have some shame about that word when I’ve used it in my youth so I don’t do it and I think most people are the same way with it. I am wondering if we started to use something as shocking as “retarded” and waited for their response, which I think would be something like, “OH MY GOD, NO. WHY WOULD I SAY THAT?” and then we could be all, “Exactly. Why would you ask me about his genetic makeup then? Why would you cross that delicate line?”
We could sort of fix the whole world with a wee bit of shaming.
I’m optimistic like that. At least I have one virtue.
{ 46 comments… read them below or add one }
Of course, I’m a big weenie, and usually just say, “yes he’s mixed!” Then I get challenges like, “Is his dad full black though? He’s so fair!” Full black? What the fuck does that even mean?
I’m all about the shaming. And I agree that retarded is a horrible word. I dont know that I could flow with that though. Give me some time to think on that.
BTW…that white-blond hair on Gabe’s forehead is just adorable. Both of my kids had a sweet-spot that I could just snuggle and kiss on – my son’s was the back of his neck and my daughter’s is her forehead, with yellow-blond hair right at the hairline. That’s a beautiful boy.
That is one good looking kid! Also: people are effing idiots.
See, you’re better than me.
I’d want to be all “… smart enough to know better than dare ask the question you’re trying to ask?”
But in actuality, I’d very likely wait in silence until they were forced to ask the question. And then in response, I would simply ask in return, “Does it matter?”
That’s a good response! I’ll have to remember that. It makes me raise my eyebrow when I take my granddaughter to the store. If she’s walking, people see her, smile, then look around like a parent is missing and the child is just roaming. Until they hear “Grandma, let’s get this!” to which I respond. Then they stare. haha. I thought we would be over this reaction by 2011.
I’m a bit lost. Why the trailing off? Why can’t someone just say “oh he’s beautiful! Do you mind if I ask what his ethnic heritage is?” I mean, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to explain that the reason I have legs so white that they glow in the dark and can lead you through the woods on a night with no moon is firmly at the feet of my mostly Irish ancestors. (There’s an ongoing joke about that big, hurty, yellow ball in the sky and the Irish.)
I suppose this is something I really need perspective on. When I was a little younger than my daughter, I desperately wanted to grow up to have Japanese features – because I couldn’t think of anything lovelier than a traditional Geisha. I was a little heartbroken when I realized that it wasn’t going to ever happen.
So if it’s necessary? Hit me with the clue-by-four. Until I read this, I thought the problem was with the idiot who trailed off because somehow it implied that a multi-ethnic background was somehow something to be ashamed of or whispered about – like how some people won’t say the word “cancer.” But it seems I’m way off base here – because I’m taking from this that asking what ethnic blends provide such a beautiful combination is wrong.
So that I don’t manage to eat my own shoe leather next time – is that what you’re saying?
I try not to be an insensitive dolt. But I’ll admit that I am more frequently than I’d like to believe.
I’ve typed and untyped so many different retorts. It comes down to being amazed that people think they way they think. It almost makes me wish we held on to the simplicity of both description and understanding of small children. Mine would likely say, “Your hair is curly, mine is not. Your skin is kind of like chocolate milk when I am almost done with my glass. Mine is kind of like ice cream, vanilla or lemon, when it’s just like milk at the bottom. My hair is darker than yours. Do you like trains? Do you like ice cream? Me too. Hey mom, we like trains.”
Sigh, instead we get all caught up in stuff that is nowhere near as important as ice cream and trains.
And, of course, the correct response to the question: “Is his dad full black?” is “Yes, you guessed it. His father is a pure-bred Black Labrador Retriever.”
Lu, first, you made me giggle with your running joke. It’s a good long one.
I think it’s insensitive if that’s your first query about a person, especially a child who is there and can hear it asked. If I think back to my own childhood I remember wondering if that was the most important thing about me since people asked that first. “Is that all I’m worth? IS that my worth?” I probably wouldn’t mind the way you would say it, but I *know* you and this pertains to strangers. At least you’re asking.
Amanda, I love that. “Ice cream and trains.” Wonderful.
Rodd, I’m sure Jenny will try that next time, too. We’re just giving her a TON of retorts.
He’s beautiful. That’s it. Why does anyone even care about his ethnicity?
I see a beautiful painting. I smile and enjoy it. I don’t sit and endlessly ponder the process by which the artist created it.
Not the best example, I know, but my brain is tired and that’s all I’ve got.
Actually, avasmommy, if you wrote that on Twitter I would have starred it.
The, the unmitigated CHOOTZPAH of people and the level of intrusiveness in the personal questions they ask never fails to stun me.
Here’s one I get: my (white person) skin type can only be called “florid.” When I’m out in hot weather, my face gets red. It continues to be red for some minutes after I come inside, while I cool down. PEOPLE COMMENT ON THIS. I wish I were kidding. “You got some sun, huh?” “Your face is red!” REALLY? Your mouth is big AND stupid, asshole. I swear, the next time a particular coworker comments on this, I’m going to use the specific language from the “harassment training video” and say “It makes me uncomfortable when you comment on my skin color; please don’t.”
um, sorry, I kind of went off there. this clearly really bothers me.
A good friend of mine in her late 20s who is very slim was just telling me that, in an airport shuttle this morning, a woman asked her more than once if she was traveling alone, as though she were a child. People are always commenting on her thinness. She hates this as much as I would hate it if people thought it acceptable to talk about my fatness to my face like that. (all I have to put up with is an occasional accidentally-overheard slur, luckily(?), and, even more rarely, distant mockery meant to be overheard, but not fake-solicitous direct address.)
tl;dr
Seriously, don’t comment on someone’s personal appearance unless it’s a compliment, and if your compliment is or sounds like it is somehow based on something sensitive like race or size, tread lightly there too, everyone. Please.
I’m confused by this too! Is there something wrong with asking if a person is biracial and what races they are mixed with? Or did I ask that question wrong?
I have 3 nephews that are japanese and black and my sister in laws have no problem with answering that question. I don’t think we’ve ever taken it as being negative.
Actually, she could say ” … DEAF?? Why, no, he’s NOT DEAF.”
I love this post!
Not only are my kids saddled with genetics, but we tacked on some strange-sounding names as a salute to the country from which half their DNA hails – India. Over the years, I’ve gotten loads of squinky-eyed looks and trailed off, not-quite-asked questions. Sometimes, I relieve folks of their misery and just offer up “My husband is from India.” Other times,I get evil and let ‘em squirm. Hey, I blame PMS – whatcha gonna do??
However, my favorite line to this day?? My husband took my daughter to the Indian store for some groceries and while there was asked by the Indian owner, “Is she yours?” Seriously, we STILL laugh about that. Like, really? For serious? Did the person think my husband kidnapped some random kid off the street, then headed to the Indian grocer to pick up some parathas and basmati rice?
L. Duncan, I think it’s different for many people so I would find out from your nephews how they feel about it. They might not care or they might wonder why that’s important. Some people seem to get STUCK on that conversation and when a little child is involved I think we have to do our best to monitor that.
Thanks for the clarification K! It hadn’t occurred to me that it might come across to a child not as a compliment, but as a differentiation. That’s not something I’d willingly do to any child… so it’s good that I know better now. Growing up is altogether too often a series of events where we feel “different” and not in a good way. Thanks for helping me to put the missing piece in that puzzle.
That’s why I value having friends with different experiences than I have. It helps with the perspective!
cagey, I ALWAYS pick up an Indian kid at the grocery store. I might have picked up some fruit and asked him back, “Are these YOURS?”
xoxo
And that’s why *I* value friends who are willing to have this conversation with me, Lucretia.
Why are people so odd? I mean, why ask? Really? I don’t get it–does that change how you look at him? Or how he looks? I know people say really inappropriate things about kids all the time, but that one is as odd as it is inappropriate.
My 10 year old stepson is biracial( his mom is black and my husband is white) and we had a women over to our house a couple months ago who asked us 2 different times if he was “really ours”!!! As if that wasn’t offensive enough, both times that she asked he was standing right there!
I am of mostly Irish descent with blonde hair and blue eyes and my 3 year old has a Guatemalan biological father who is not involved in his life. I haven’t yet had anyone trail off but I do (nearly everytime we go out of the house) have someone ask outright 1) if he is “mixed with something” (someTHING? Really, people??) or 2) If I’m his nanny. Honest to god I will never understand why they think it matters or is any of their damn buisness.
Thank you for posting this – I’ve learned something today!
I would never ask this sort of question, simply because I think it’s none of my business. It never occurred to me, however, that a question about a child’s ethnicity might be viewed as offensive – resulting in feelings of anger, hostility in a parent.
Finishing the sentence with “retarded” is too much of a slap upside the head though. I would simply respond to the question with “yes he/she is mixed,biracial, etc.” and then ask them why they asked. Then you have an opportunity to teach/share why they might not want to ask that question in the future.
Sometimes people are just ignorant and really mean no ill will. We should all be a little kinder to each other and not assume the worse.
I was always of the wait-patiently-until-they’re-forced-into-completing-the-sentence sort, sometimes asking them the leading, “Is she…what were you going to ask?” with my tone getting flintier and flintier with each word if I really wanted to push the issue. Sometimes I’d just say, “That’s a really personal question, don’t you think?” And, most importantly, it took lots of conversation with Her Cuteness about why I responded the way I did so she would understand and begin to develop a finer racism radar.
It also seems weird that people never ask me about MY kid, “Oh, is she white?” The curiosity about multi-racial/ethnic persons and how their beauty is built normalizes whiteness and fetishizes Other-ness.
Hell, I don’t even really like it when the first thing someone comments on is MY kid’s looks. Yes, she’s cute. But there will probably come a day when the baby cuteness will go away and people will stop commenting about her looks and she will wonder why. Or, if she continues to be stunningly gorgeous, that will structure the way she understands herself and her relationship with other people. My relatives often feel like there’s no “winning” with me…but really, a little bit of *thought* about what you say to small children would be appreciated.
Not NEARLY on the same level, but my dark-haired husband and I used to get asked where our daughter got that blonde hair from? I finally snapped one day, while pregnant and irritable, and told one nosy lady she got it from the mailman.
Honestly, it’s not anyone elses business where any kid’s genetics came from.
Oh, that’s a good one. As a redhead with the brunette parents, I must’ve heard the “where did you get…” a million times. I wish I’d known as a ten year old to say snootily that it’s a double recessive!
I don’t think it’s that genetic information is private or privileged or taboo. I think the question, maybe in any form it can be asked, is inappropriate because it drags everyone into a historical and cultural web of feelings and judgments they didn’t think they were agreeing to when they decided to go play on the slides for the morning.
A few comments before rushing out again…
Sandy, I don’t think that’s too harsh a word to use. That’s why I chose it. One would NEVER consider asking that question of a parent of a mentally challenged child (and, by God, this is NOT a comparison) so doing it to “figure out” some kid’s race is just as offensive.
mommela, I absolutely LOVE that you used the word ‘flintier’.
Backpacking Dad, you got it. Bingo! Kids want to be kids and not have questions about their makeup. What white kid goes to the playground and comes home offended because all the children of color and their parents wondered curiously about his makeup?
I laughed out loud when I read this!
And the funny thing is, I’m asked all the time if my kids or I are mixed, and we’re not.
So people are rude all the way around.
Most comments are about my kids’ hair. Both girls have long thick curly hair that goes past their shoulders. So they get comments all the time about how beautiful it is or the ‘i wish i had that hair,’ or ‘can i have some of your hair?’ I used to get asked that 2nd one when I was little too.
My kids are biracial but we get no comments if i’m out with them but without hubby. The hubby gets more stares(according to him) if they’re out wth him and i’m not around. If we’re out all together still stares but not as many. I should make a stare pie chart. Me and the hubby have a running years long commentary about how they stare because we are so GLAMOUROUS.
There was this one little boy one time who wondered very loudly ‘why is her mommy brown and her daddy white?’ to his parents when we passed by. I just smiled while his parents tried to shush him. Kids are kids and he was curious.
There was also an incident where my hubby had to take our youngest to the car for a forgotten pull-up and she’s crying and etc and he later told me an older black woman was giving him ‘looks’ and kind of standing where he would have to exit. Once she heard the youngest call him daddy she relaxed.
My daughter is also biracial. Her skin is fair, similar to people I have met from Turkey and Egypt. I am the color of milk chocolate and when we are together, the fact that she is biracial seems to draw more questions than when my husband is out with her. We live in southern california and being biracial, multiracial is common. Like Lea said, the number one comment people make (aside from complimenting her beauty and asking if she models), is about her hair. Occasionally people ask outright if “she’s mixed,” but more often the question is phrased more delicately, “What does her father look like?” or “What color are her father’s eyes?”
Or, just as often, people will says, “Mixed kids are the most beautiful in the world” and they will go on to recount their own Korean/Latino/Filipino/German/Kenyan children (or nieces, cousins, etc). and how gorgeous they are. In other words, at leads in encounters, these discussions are always positive–as though being from more than one ethnic groups gives you super secret powers, that the rest of the “normal” people don’t yet know about.
She just turned four. And I’ll admit that I’ve never thought how these questions about her ethnic makeup might affect her one day. I’ve taken it for granted that she is biracial and that having a one black and one white parent was a part of she is. I’ve always accepted people’s curiosity about the exact recipe that came to make her, as simply that: curiosity. I’ve found it more insulting that they are only curious, however, when they see her with her black mother, and not when she is with her paler-skinned parent.
I suppose the fact that I have only looked at it through my own myopic racial lens, is not the best reflection on my parenting. She is more than her heritage, as I am, as we all are. And perhaps I shouldn’t feel so comfortable having the conversation with strangers. But I guess, since I have grown up as the only black face in a sea of classrooms and offices, I am used to having to justify my existence. And when strangers ask about her racial makeup, I generally think that question has much less to do with her, and much more to do with me, and my having to justify why/how I managed to create a fairs king, hazel-eyed child.
I absolutely swoon at the sight of light eyes paired with dark skin, but heritage is such a melting pot (and becoming more so with every generation) that it’s not as simple as being black or white or Asian or Hispanic or a 50/50 combination, even if the question is posed with respect. We’re all “mixed” to some degree.
I feel so lucky that I’m generally oblivious to stares, I don’t notice that people look at me when I’m out with my son. Maybe they don’t, maybe things are more relaxed here. We did have a guy whip his head around to look at us in the car the other day, we were all together…omg dude, you’re going to crash your car because you had to give a dirty look to the interracial family? I just laugh at people like that most of the time because they are so much in the minority now, and their numbers are shrinking every day.
I agree with Backpacking Dad…the question is inappropriate because we weren’t asking for all that undercurrent in our casual conversations with strangers. I don’t appreciate it when race comes up in that way because my child doesn’t see that he’s different from other children, and why should he? He’s not. What he looks like is not what’s important about him.
Well, after the video yesterday, my first thought was “Is he Jewish?”.
Ohh the nasty feelings this stirs in me.
Last weekend my younger sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy who happens to be biracial. She is white, her boyfriend is black. I only include this because it’s relevant back story to something my mother-in-law said to my daughter that, had I been there, would have earned her a black eye and a bloody lip because I am just not nearly as composed as you.
My sister was thinking of naming the baby Greyson and when my ten year old daughter told my fifty-something year old mother-in-law this do you know what she had the gall to respond with?
It makes me furious even to type.
“Oh my! She didn’t think that name through very well did she? Grey. Son. Get it? Grey. Son. White and Black makes Grey.”
Ugh!
“is he…”
“deaf? no, so don’t finish asking the question you are about to ask!”
it’s 2011!!! i just don’t understand people! my exhusband is 1/2 mexican, 1/2 iranian…his son’s mother is white and no one asks what HE is!!!! why do white/black kids have to go through this??? it’s ridiculous.
Gabe is gorgeous!!!!
you know what I don’t get? Who cares? Who cares how many different races collide to make him as beautiful as he is? He is a delightful, gorgeous, smart, funny kid. Aren’t all of those things the important factors?
I don’t understand why someone would be compelled to ask. I understand curiosity but he’s RIGHT THERE and they’re talking about him like he’s some specimen in a zoo. And? It’s none of their beeswax. So…rude.
I think the implication of the question is rude and people shouldn’t even consider asking. What does it matter? That said, I also think that sometimes we are too hard on stupid people. I favor the gentle, educational approach recommended by Sandy. I have my reasons.
I used to be a really nice person—kind, gentle, compassionate, forgiving. About twelve years ago, my family underwent a personal attack that left us wounded and angry for a very long time. In my anger, I chose to lose the “nice” and just let people have it when they crossed the line. I was done with that ‘nice’ shit (my apologies for bad language). I lost a lot of ground as a result. I lost the ability to positively impact my relationships. I lost the ability to create change of heart in sticky situations. Instead, I just wounded people and caused them to act in kind. I left a path of destruction in my wake that not only hurt other people, but myself as well. The anger ate ME up, not others. My husband chose a different path. He chose to move with love, especially toward those who had hurt us the most. He later spoke about the need for us to “be tender with one another” and he lives it. He is far from perfect, but the impact he has had has changed a community. That’s pretty awesome.
I try to be so conscious of how I move in the world and the words I choose. Despite that, I have put my foot in my mouth on occasion. What would have the greatest impact on me? Someone responding to me in anger and humiliation would shame me, yes. But tenderness would CHANGE me.
For what it’s worth.
I really like this post. I am a big proponent of diversity and multiculturalism. Personally, I don’t like the term “mixed” in the way that it is generally used. It implies that an individual with a “white” parent and a “black” parent is somehow more genetically unique than anyone else; we are ALL mixed! I agree that the people you are describing here are being rude in that they act as if the genetic makeup of the child is a) especially strange and b) somehow shameful (in that they don’t finish their sentence). But I would like your clarification on a tiny little point, because I am really good at getting caught up in details!
Otherwise (i.e. other than people making a big deal out of this particular genetic combination), do you think that genetic makeup is a highly personal, taboo topic?
- Sarah
When I saw Gabriel for the first time in person I just wanted to ask, Um is he a magical cherub? The thing about Gabriel is he is exquisite. And while I am not defending the morons that ask lame ass questions, I wonder if it’s because they want to know how on EARTH you made such a good looking child – like holy hell what are the ingredients in that child, because I want one.
“Is he . . . ” “Gay? Oh G-d yes: he’s gayer than Neil Patrick Harris and Elton John together! With James Baldwin added on!” [for people who can't bring themselves to use the r-word]
I too, have been asked, “is he yours?” I get comments about my son’s looks every time we’re out together. I’m not bragging, only stating our experiences. It’s really starting to rub me the wrong way.
I think someone touched on it above, but I try so hard as a parent to make my son feel good about himself and all he hears from other people is how good looking he is. I tell him he’s smart and funny. Others talk about his eyes (“where’d those come from?”) and tell him he’s going to have girls lining up to be with with him (also totally inappropriate!).
My son started getting really upset about all the looks and comments and we had to have a talk about it. My fear is that he’s either going to develop a complex or turn into an asshole. I don’t want him to think his “worth” is tied to his looks or that he’s only “worth” anything because he’s good looking. It seems so silly when I type it out, but it really weighs on me at times.
The thing that rubs me the wrong way with the trailing question is that the hushed tones somehow imply that the topic or answer is scandalous. That really riles me, no matter what the topic. “Hello, are you trying to hide your prejudices? Because it’s not working!”
I also grew up as a distinctive redhead to brunette parents. My mother taught me to deflect the frequent question, “Where did you get your [pretty] red hair?” with “From my Daddy’s beard.” A side issue: mother seemed to be really uncomfortable with the attention to my hair in particular, and tried to play it down, which created other self-esteem issues for me later. (Huh. Do you suppose our issues are not our children’s issues until we make them so?)
How do we help teach our children to deal with uncomfortable amounts of attention, whether “positive” or “negative”? Either way, questions can be intrusive. Either way, a child’s self-esteem can be pulled askew by the outside attention and their parents’ reaction to it.