My husband and I met our son on January 4, 2009. He was 3 days old. He is African-American. We are mixed-breed European-Americans, mostly Irish, but also English, Basque, and German. When we told my father-in-law that his new grandson is black, his response was perfect: "Who the hell cares?! We're Irish!"
(Side note: My FIL voted for Bush twice. When we were trying to convince him to vote for Obama, we kept reminding him that Obama is Irish too! We're not sure how he voted -- he read Dreams from My Father and liked it a lot.)
Back to my story. Two weeks ago, our family's life changed in the best of all possible ways. And Inauguration Day 2009 -- which we have been looking forward to for what seems like a lifetime -- took on a whole new meaning. Our multi-racial family will watch the first mixed-race person be sworn in as President of the United States. How cool is that?
It is an awesome responsibility to raise a child in this world. When a mother facing impossible life circumstances places her child in your arms and says "you are his parents," the responsibility becomes doubly significant. And when you are white parents about to raise a black son in the United States, the pages of history add even more weight to this responsibility.
We have no illusions about the effect that growing up in a mixed-race family may have on our son. We understand that we do not yet live in a post-racial America, and that our son may face ugly situations that we have never had to grapple with. We know that, because many Americans still judge people by their appearance, our son will need to learn survival skills that we have not. We plan to expand our already-diverse personal community as much as we can so that he will be better prepared for the transition from safe home life to uncertain world. We know we will not be perfect parents (who is?) but we will do the very best we can. We are grateful that this is an open adoption, so that our son's first mother will be able to participate in his life and serve as a connection to his community of origin, if she so chooses.
Tomorrow, as Barack Obama becomes President, we will celebrate. We have been personally and financially invested in this campaign for a long time. When I heard Obama speak at the 2004 Democratic Convention, I was convinced he should be president someday. During the 2008 campaign, my husband was in the Obama camp from day one. I was initially concerned about Obama's chances of winning and leaned towards Edwards until I heard Obama speak in Oregon a year ago November. Tears came to my eyes that evening, as I remembered what it feels like to hope. He won my heart and my mind for good that night.
My husband and I donated as much as we could afford. We were also volunteering for my brother's congressional campaign, so we didn't have time to phone bank or walk precincts, but we lobbied our friends and relatives hard. Even our dog showed his support.
Two weeks ago, I wept when I held my son for the first time. I believe that, although life may be hard for him at times, it will be so much easier than it would have been if the other guys had won.
My son is never going to know a time when it wasn't possible for someone who looks like him to hold the highest office in the land. A brown-skinned kid from a mixed-race family can achieve anything he sets his mind to, despite the fact that change is still happening, that the transition is not over, that the country is not yet healed from its long struggle.
I believed in the importance of this symbolism from the beginning of the Obama campaign, but now I feel its importance in my bones. This is my child's future we're talking about. Life may be rough for all of us for many years, but at least -- at long last -- we will have hope.