My Experience As A White Mom Raising A Black Daughter
One day, my two-year-old daughter was climbing the walls in lieu of napping.
Frustrated and longing for a moment of stationery quiet, I buckled her into the car and drove the fifteen minutes into town. Usually, I will drive in the opposite direction of town, out along the country roads as the paddocks unfold around us. On this day though, I drove toward civilization, parked the car at Aldi, then walked up the main street and back, approximately a 30-minute walk. During the walk, we were stopped four times by middle-aged white women who asked if they could touch my daughter's hair.
On each occasion my daughter, herself familiar with this routine, compliantly leant her head forward whilst the stranger ran her fingers through her tight curls, always getting stuck and pulling until my daughter winced and ripped her head away. So cute, so beautiful, they'd say. So weird, I'd think. We live in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, which is a predominantly white, or anglo community, and my daughter is mixed-race. I am white (and red-headed no less) and her father is black. The last lady, who incidentally provided the impetus to write this essay, pulled her hand away and then said she looked like a toilet brush before breaking out into fits of giggles. We were standing in the line at Aldi by this stage so many other people heard it. Everyone laughed. How adorable.
This kind of scenario is not unusual in our day to day lives and in fact is nothing compared to some others we've encountered. There was the time my Dutch neighbour, a woman in her 60s, cradled my newborn after I brought her home and oohed and aahed and smelt her head and then said, "Oh my, she even smells black."
There was the woman with the strong Scottish accent at the hardware store who asked me three times in varying ways whether my daughter had actually come from my own body and the woman on the train to Sydney who asked where my child had come from. I replied, "Half of her came from me and the other half her father."
There was the person who asked me how old she was when I got her and the woman who practically chased me out of Dan Murphy's to congratulate me on what I was doing, that it was obvious my child and I had an amazing bond. She was practically crying with joy. My first instinct was to grab a bottle of the wine I'd just bought and skull it. I've overheard kids in the supermarket ask their parents why that kid's black and once when I was collecting her from crèche, a young boy ran up to me and said with the greatest astonishment, "Did you know that Frankie comes from another country?"
"No she doesn't," I replied. "Her father does.""Oh," he said shrinking back, slightly perplexed.
But what's my point? There are so many directions one could go. One thing I do notice is that these instances normally occur when I am alone with my daughter, and it is usually other white people who make these comments. I assume that when my partner is there, they realise some sort of line between themselves and him and they are not willing to cross it. Though this is an assumption, of course.
Normally, these occasions are novel and more often than not, I have a delayed reaction. It is on the way home, in the car, half an hour later that I suddenly think, Damn! I should have said that. Usually, to be honest, I just laugh it off. And this bothers me more in many ways. In doing so, I am putting their comfort ahead of mine. I don't say anything back because I don't want them to feel uncomfortable, I don't want to appear rude or combative, in spite of how I or my daughter might feel. What does that say about me?
When I was pregnant, I quite literally avoided reading anything related to pregnancy. I steered clear of other pregnant women and did not change my life a great deal in preparation. I ate shellfish, had the occasional glass of wine, and didn't attend a single prenatal class. But now that I have the child, and even more recently, as she is getting older, I find myself actively seeking out information and anecdotes from others in my situation.
Recent internet searches on my computer are "managing African hair," "caring for black hair," "products for mixed race hair". Most commonly, the comments about my daughter concern her hair. The hair is the ultimate object of fetish when it comes to the mixed-race baby. We quite literally cannot go out into public without receiving multiple comments regarding her hair.
On the whole, they are complimentary or inquisitive and made by people of all races and ethnicities, though given where we live, it is mainly other people who look and sound just like me. Twice, I have met African women who have chastised me for letting her hair grow wild--for allowing some of the curls to form dreadlocks. On both occasions, I have smiled sheepishly, blaming my lack of knowledge regarding the care of my child's hair on my own skin colour. "I only know how to comb white hair," I have said.
It is always easier to just slip back into the stereotype, I suppose.
The little I have found to read about this issue has been interesting, yet hasn't necessarily shed any light on the topic for me. Many black women equate the curiosity others have with their own mixed-race children with the misperception that white is superior to black, that being partially white is better than being not white at all.
For me, I have had the inverse response:
I feel my child is valued because she is partially black.
To me, the curiosity is representative of a more general fascination with blackness and black culture. Many times, I have wondered if people assumed she was adopted because a woman who looked like me could not possibly have given birth to so beautiful a child. And mostly, what I can find to read about it is centered on the experiences of North American people. The politics of race are different in Australia, in particular, because of our failure to address the complex relationship between the First Australians and the rest of us and the gross inequalities that have resulted in that failure for the majority of Indigenous people. I dare say that if my child were half Aboriginal, I would be dealing with a whole different set of circumstances.
You see that's the thing. When someone sees a mixed-race child, they will more often than not project their own perceptions of the politics of race and ethnicity onto that child, whether consciously or not. I have had so many people tell me that my daughter will grow up to be a singer or a model or an actress simply because of the "look" she has. This speaks to the fetishisation of mixed-race children, but it also speaks to their gender as well.
There is a very telling line in British novelist Zadie Smith's novel NW, in which the character, Nathan, tells his childhood friend Keisha that everyone loves a black man when he is a cute little boy, but as soon as he reaches physical maturity they will cross the street to avoid him. The same, I don't think, can be said for their female counterparts. Instead, the image of light-skinned black women such as Rihanna is projected onto my little girl. Already, at two, when she dances people will laugh and comment on how well she "twerks".
In the end, of course, I don't care what my child looks like or what she grows up to be, so long as she is healthy and happy and independent.
Thankfully, my daughter is willfully independent and does not take "no" lying down. So many of my own fears and concerns are assuaged simply by knowing that she will more likely than not have the strength to find her own identity and sense of self outside of what society tells her she is.
But still, in spite of all my best efforts, she is growing up in a society that still does not understand itself and in the end, this will have some affect on who she becomes and how she sees herself in the world. And I suppose the best thing we can do is to share our stories and work our way through it.
Related post:Why Fetishizing Mixed-Raced Children Can Be Dangerous
Camilla Palmer is a Postgraduate researcher in the School of Arts and Media at the University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia.
Featured image by Eye for Ebony on Unsplash
- I'm A Black Mother Who Adopted White Children - xoNecole: Women's Interest, Love, Wellness, Beauty ›
- I'm a White Mother Raising Three Black Children, and Here's What I ... ›
- What White Parents Should Know About Adopting Black Children ... ›
- Why I Stopped Giving Hair Advice to White Moms of Brown Kids ... ›
- Transracial Adoption: White Mom's Experience Raising Black Boys ... ›
- The Racism I've Experienced As A White Mom Who Adopted Black ... ›
- How one white mother talked to her two black children about racism ... ›
- The Realities of Raising a Kid of a Different Race ›
- White moms, black hair: Blogs teach adoptive and interracial ... ›
ItGirl 100 Honors Black Women Who Create Culture & Put On For Their Cities
As they say, create the change you want to see in this world, besties. That’s why xoNecole linked up with Hyundai for the inaugural ItGirl 100 List, a celebration of 100 Genzennial women who aren’t afraid to pull up their own seats to the table. Across regions and industries, these women embody the essence of discovering self-value through purpose, honey! They're fierce, they’re ultra-creative, and we know they make their cities proud.
VIEW THE FULL ITGIRL 100 LIST HERE.
Don’t forget to also check out the ItGirl Directory, featuring 50 Black-woman-owned marketing and branding agencies, photographers and videographers, publicists, and more.
THE ITGIRL MEMO
I. An ItGirl puts on for her city and masters her self-worth through purpose.
II. An ItGirl celebrates all the things that make her unique.
III. An ItGirl empowers others to become the best versions of themselves.
IV. An ItGirl leads by example, inspiring others through her actions and integrity.
V. An ItGirl paves the way for authenticity and diversity in all aspects of life.
VI. An ItGirl uses the power of her voice to advocate for positive change in the world.
Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for daily love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
Curate The Vibes With These Black-Owned Candles For Every Mood
Black women of the 90s and early 2000s had incense, and Black women of today are fully embracing our luxury candle era. Candles have become just as important as our perfume selections, and as a luxury candle connoisseur, I keep all of my favorites in stock in my storage closet.
Whether you’re moving out for the first time and want to try new scents or looking to set the mood for a self-care day or sexy evening, consider these Black-owned candle brands to curate the vibe you’re looking for.
If You’re Feeling Bad & Bougie
The Original Candle
If you’re the bougie friend of the group, this candle is for you. Hanifa has become a staple luxury brand; with celebs like Tracee Ellis Ross, Jennifer Hudson, Naomi Campbell, and Danielle Brooks seen in her designs, they have become everyone's favorite brand. They recently launched their first candle, The Original. The candle is infused with notes of mandarin, orange blossom, caramel, sandalwood, jasmine sambac, and vanilla.
When Wash Day Comes...
"Wash Day" Candle
Cavo
Need some inspiration to get up and section that hair so you can get to washing? Not to worry. This pineapple, mango coconut milk, and sugar candle will have your house smelling as good as your favorite conditioner.
Wellness Girl Necessity
Sunday in Brooklyn Candle
If you’re a girl who loves clean scents that clear the energy in your home and feel like the best Sunday you ever had, you need this candle. Infused with wild basil and lemongrass, it’s guaranteed to help you find your zen.
For Sunday Brunch If You’re Hosting
Champagne Showers
Champagne Showers is the perfect candle for a birthday celebration, Sunday brunch night in, or toast to your next big win! The candle includes a blend of bright bergamot, peach fizz, and creamy woods. It’s a bubbly fragrance that’s as sophisticated as our girl, Jackie Aina.
After You Listen To SZA
"After A Good Cry" Candle
Cavo
Let the tears flow, and let the healing begin. This rainwater, lavender, vanilla, and bean and bourbon candle is just what the doctor ordered if you’re getting over a breakup. But once you’re done crying, just remember you're worthy of much more, okay?
For The Lover Girl Era
"Love" Luxury Candle
If you’re done crying and have found the one you’ve been waiting for, let this candle burn as warm as your love for your new boo. Harlem Candle Co.'s "Love" fragrance represents a dramatic, romantic theme with both masculine and feminine accords melding beautifully together, infused with crisp apple and watery green notes.
Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
Featured image by Maskot/Getty Images