Racist Watermelon

Before I became a foster parent, I didn’t give much thought to race. I grew up in a rural town with not much diversity. In my grade school there was one black kid and a few Asian kids who were adopted. The vast majority of the kids and families in my area were white. My college experience was also similar, small school, more rural than not and not a lot of diversity barring the foreign exchange students. So, I didn’t give diversity much thought because I didn’t have to – I lived my life in ignorant white privilege. But, when I became a foster parent and I had black children placed in my care, I began to slowly understand. I’m not saying I’m perfect, by any means. Often times I still find myself confronted with my privilege and it’s uncomfortable. I do it for my children because they are not going to have the same experiences that I had growing up. I live in town now, which is much more diverse than the rural area of the county where I grew up, but that doesn’t always make it easier.

 

Love Bug is too young to understand racism, but Chica Marie is starting to see differences in people and she has made some comments that make my heart hurt. A few months ago her mobile therapist was coloring with her and trying to get her to interact. She took a picture of Cinderella and said it was Chica Marie. She started coloring the skin of Cinderella a light brown color, representing Chica Marie’s skin tone, and Chica Marie began to cry, yelling, “I’m not brown! Brown is ugly!” A few days after that she told me she doesn’t like black people. I sat her down and talked about how she was feeling and gently explained her statement wasn’t true, pointing to her family and how she did love them. Sadly, to Chica Marie, white is pretty and black is not. So I consciously try to compliment her, especially in front of other people, in hopes that she will see her own beauty. I worry that being a white mom is not helping her.

 

For her birthday Chica Marie got her ears pierced. They are now healed and she is very excited to try new earrings. Previously, she had spied a pair of little watermelon earrings I had in my earring box. I wore them when I was a child and have managed to keep them all these years. She desperately wants to wear my watermelon earrings, but I have told her she cannot. I never knew it until joining a Facebook group directed at white adoptive parents of children of color, but watermelons are a seen as racist. I won’t pretend to understand how a simple summer time fruit can be used to belittle an entire race of people, but that is what happened post emancipation (this article explains it better than I can). I am particular with Chica Marie’s hair because I have learned of it’s importance in black culture, and the racist treatment black people face because of that. I don’t let the children wear clothing with monkeys on it and don’t encourage them to act like monkeys. And now, I have to explain to Chica Marie why she can’t wear watermelon earrings. She doesn’t understand and neither do I,  but the very last thing I want is for her to face racist comments because of my ignorance. Had you asked me five years ago, I would not have had a clue. But, I am learning and I need to be sensitive to things like this, especially in the cultural climate of our country right now. It’s hard trying to explain racism to a first grader, but to not talk about it would be negligent. Right now,  Chica Marie thinks it’s unfair I won’t let her wear the watermelon earrings and sadly, this is only a small part of what so many black people in America face in their lifetime. I don’t like it, but I have to prepare my children for it, especially as they get older and are out on their own.