Owning my Racism - Adoption in America

I am a white man, and have enjoyed the privilege of being a white man in this country.  I attended a mostly white public school system in a mid-sized mostly white city.  There were two african american families in my high school.

I attended a small liberal arts college with a small but vocal african american community.  

I work for a software company that is mostly white, and male.

And I live in a mostly white suburb of a mostly white city.

And I have denied, for most of my life, that I am a racist.

Today, after listening to Barack Obama, I admit I am.

Since the first time my wife and I discussed children over 8 years ago, we have discussed adoption.  We have discussed it in terms of how we identify with both ourselves and the children of the world, and have decided that while we are not incapable of having our own children, adopting a waiting child or waiting children is really what we feel in our hearts.

We have filled out all of the paperwork, we have our home study completed.  We have attended a lot of training, some of it race specific, much of simply about raising hurt children.

Early on in this process my wife specifically identified that she wanted to adopt african american children.  She is of course open to children of all race, but in her heart she sees herself as the mom of african american children.  I have wrestled with this for over a year now - even after having fostered two beautiful, intelligent african american girls last year.  Even this morning, when the topic came up concerning an african american boy available in our state, I was uncomfortable.

The issues that confront me are all about race.  They are about raising a child that doesn't look like me.  And I have often projected this issue onto the "potential child," often arguing with my wife that my concern was not about my feelings, but with how a child of a different race would eventually view us.

Barack Obama made me realize today, that I need to own my racism and move past it.  I need to recognize it, quit making excuses, quit rationalizing it away, and move past it.  

In America, the largest segment of waiting children are african american.  African American children make up 41% of the over 500,000 children in foster care, even though they make up only 15% of the general population.  By comparison, caucasian children make up 63% of all children in America, but only 38% of foster children are caucasian.

In America, it actually will cost you less money to adopt an african american baby (Baby trade).  Some argue that this is a supply and demand question, but regardless of the argument, cost boils down to race on some level.

I feel the need to be a parent.  I am looking forward to it.  I can envision myself being the father to a child of any color.  I can see it in my mind's eye.  So why do I still have this hesitation, this fear, when I actually see a picture of a real life waiting child of color that needs a home?  

It is because I have not confronted what is really at the heart of the matter.

I have lived a more or less segregated life (with the exception of 4 years of military service).  I have allowed myself to become complacent with the notion of race by simply ignoring it.  And now that it is confronting me in the form of adoption, it is making me uncomfortable.

But thanks to the courageous words of Barack Obama, I now feel deep in my bones something very real:  that we are all people, we all deserve hope, we all deserve second chances, and we all make up this great country.  If I can be a father to ANY child, of ANY race, then that is both the greatest blessing I can receive and the greatest blessing I can bestow.  Skin color does not dictate whether or not someone is loveable.  It does not dictate whether or not someone can be my child.

My wife and I are going to adopt a pair of children who have, so far in life, not been provided with the kind of love, support and opportunity that I have taken for granted my whole life.  Cultural identity will still be an issue.  Dealing with ignorant people around us will still be an issue.

But having a presidential candidate stand up and speak to the issues so directly without any hesitation in his voice, provided me with the one thing that I was not seeing until now:  hope for the future.  

If hope is Barack Obama's message - he has finally gotten through to me, and I cannot wait to be a father.