Even though I am white, I feel I have earned the right to post my opinion on racism. Many people disagree although most change their minds about that once they've heard my story. So I'll begin by telling my story (the condensed version), then I'll state my opinion.
When I was 7 years old, my parents became foster parents. We had about 50 different children living with us at different points in time over the next 9 years. Some stayed just a few weeks while others stayed a few years. We had children of all races. Most were newborns, a few were toddlers, only one was school-aged (13). We were often invited to churches or other meetings in which my parents would speak about adoption. My first experience with racism was when I was 8 years old. We had a beautiful black newborn baby, but he had rather dark skin. I'll never forget the questions and confusion I felt when a black couple looked at that precious baby and the woman stated "If we adopt one we don't want one that dark." (She was darker than the baby.) I asked my Mom why she said that and my mom said she didn't understand it either, but some people are just picky. As the years went by, I heard similar comments from blacks and comments from whites about it being wrong to adopt interracially.
When I was 12 we got a black baby named Myles. He was my favorite out of all the babies we ever had. (I would eventually name my son after him.) When I was 13 we got a newborn named Leon. A few years later my parents asked us kids how we would feel about them adopting Leon. We unanimously agreed. Some people told us we were wrong for adopting a black child; we couldn't give him "proper insight into his heritage," or ''it's wrong for a white family to raise a black child." We did our best to ignore these comments. When Leon was in elementary school, someone called DHS and falsely reported abuse, which the DHS investigator determined was initiated by a neighbor with a racial grudge and it was all dropped.
I had a white son when I was 17. At age 19, I married a black man. When we were dating, his father asked me why I wanted to marry his son. When I said "because I love him," he said "can't you find a white man to love?" I was speechless. We got married as planned despite his father's attitude toward me, which we later found out was also his mother's feelings as well. I had two children with him, Myles and Jessica. We eventually separated and divorced. I moved in to a duplex in July of 1993. A few months later the man who lived in the other half of my duplex set my half on fire in an attempt to kill me, Myles, and Jessica. I survived. Myles and Jessica did not. During his arson/murder trial it was revealed that his motive was racism. He told his cell mate "I waited until the white kid went to school because I kind of liked him." He proceeded to call Myles and Jessica "half-breeds" and me a "nigger-lover".
Most blacks today cannot say that someone they know personally has been murdered simply because of their race. They may have lost family members before their births, but very few can directly relate. Most blacks have experienced racial comments, slurs, hatred, etc. Some have experienced fear of violence or actual violence due to racial bigotry. I have also experienced those things.
When I was a kid, I was picked on often by my classmates. Mom told me to ignore them. She said they were trying to get a rise out of me, but if I ignored them eventually they would stop. She was right in some instances, but wrong in others (but that's a different post). What I learned from that is that others may have an opinion of you that you don't like, but you can't control that and you shouldn't let that define you. As we visited those churches, heard people's rude comments about a white family having a black child, dealt with judgemental looks as my husband and I were seen in public, or my one blonde-haired, blue-eyed child and two dark haired, dark-skinned, brown-eyed children went shopping, etc I learned to let the negativity roll off of me.
Myles and Jessica's murder was the hardest thing I've ever been through in my life. I learned a lot of lessons from that, even before I knew the motive. One thing I learned is that it's up to us how we handle things. Life is what we make it. If you let it, anything in life can defeat you. I made a conscious decision that I wasn't going to let my children's deaths define the rest of my life. I was 24 years old. I had my whole life ahead of me. That decision gave me strength to overcome. Looking back on it, I know that decision was rooted in what my mother taught me when I was in elementary school. She taught me how to let comments and insults roll off of me. I knew if I could let those hurtful things that were said and done to me roll off, I could let anything roll off.
Bullying comes in all shapes and sizes; whether it be your race, your sexual orientation, your size, your age, etc. In today's society, we have forgotten, or were never taught, to let things roll off. We take everything personally. We let everything leave damaging scars. We let people we don't even know define who we are by listening to their words instead of seeing that they are the ones with issues. Sometimes people say hurtful things on purpose, sometimes they think they are better than us somehow, sometimes they say them without thinking or without ill intent. I'm not saying things don't hurt, nor am I trying to downplay your experiences. I'm saying you, and only you, can control how it will affect you. You can be a victim or you can be an overcomer. I chose to be an overcomer! So can you!
