Different. And The Same. - Part 2

The research on children and race that I want to tell you about crossed my path twice in the past four years.  Same research, same authors, two totally different people sharing it with me over the span of four years - once as an article in a magazine that my dad emailed to me, once in a book that a friend recommended to me.  Both times were long before we even considered trans-racial adoption.  Clearly it wanted to find its way to me.

The authors are Ashley Merryman and Po Bronson who have written extensively for Newsweek and many other publications.  The book that the two wrote is called Nurture Shock (amazing book that I highly recommend).  According to the authors, in the book they "argue that many modern strategies for nurturing children are backfiring—because key twists in the science have been overlooked. Small corrections in our thinking today could alter the character of society long term, one future citizen at a time."  Good stuff.

Here's the basic premise of the article on race that found me twice.  Kids see color - just like they see gender and weight.  They are never color blind.  They are never color blind.  This goes against our natural assumption that says that they are color blind unless the world teaches them to notice racial differences.  Kids already notice the differences.  It's up to us to give them the tools to view those differences in a positive way - tools that teach them to live with empathy and compassion for all people, including those who are different from themselves, and not only to tolerate differences, but to see them as beautiful and essential.

Our unwillingness to talk to kids about race inadvertently gives them the message that race is something unacceptable to talk about.  Instead of allowing it to be an open discussion, we shut it down and keep silent and let the world inform their views on race instead of us doing so.  The article says that in a study of 17,000 families, 75% of the white families never, or almost never, talked about race with their kids. Seventy-five percent!

Kids Are Not Color-blind
Check this out.  This totally blew my mind.

It takes remarkably little for children to develop in-group preferences. (A researcher named) Rebecca Bigler ran an experiment in three preschool classrooms, where 4- and 5-year-olds were lined up and given T shirts. Half the kids were randomly given blue T shirts, half red. The children wore the shirts for three weeks. During that time, the teachers never mentioned their colors and never grouped the kids by shirt color.

The kids didn't segregate in their behavior. They played with each other freely at recess. But when asked which color team was better to belong to, or which team might win a race, they chose their own color. They believed they were smarter than the other color. "The Reds never showed hatred for Blues," Bigler observed. "It was more like, 'Blues are fine, but not as good as us.' " When Reds were asked how many Reds were nice, they'd answer, "All of us." Asked how many Blues were nice, they'd answer, "Some." Some of the Blues were mean, and some were dumb—but not the Reds.

Bigler says it's important to start talking to our kids about race by the time they're 3 years old, saying that "children naturally try to categorize everything, and the attribute they rely on is that which is the most clearly visible. We might imagine we're creating color-blind environments for children, but differences in skin color or hair or weight are like differences in gender—they're plainly visible. Even if no teacher or parent mentions race, kids will use skin color on their own, the same way they use T-shirt colors."

Douglas, two-and-a-half, put his arm up to mine the other day and said, "matches."  He already notices that his skin color matches mine.

Parents need to talk to their kids about race. 

The article also talks about the fact that people tend to be very comfortable talking to their kids about gender equality and that this should be a model for how we talk to them about race. "The same way we remind our daughters, 'Mommies can be doctors just like daddies,' we ought to be telling all children that doctors can be any skin color. It's not complicated what to say. It's only a matter of how often we reinforce it."

One study mentioned in the article by a researcher named Birgitte Vittrup showed that it was very difficult - painful even - for many parents to talk openly about race to their kids.  They just couldn't bring themselves to do it.  It was so engrained in their minds that it's a "taboo" topic that, even when prompted to do so for the purpose of a research study, they just couldn't.  "Of all those Vittrup told to talk openly about interracial friendship, only six families managed to actually do so."

But.  But.

"For all six (who did talk to their kids about race), their children dramatically improved their racial attitudes in a single week. Talking about race was clearly key."

This drawing by Pencil Artist Dave McCamon called “Just Like Me” was given to me by Micah's parents. We hung it up in the boys' room. Two eyes, one mouth, two ears - Different, AND the same.

These conversations need to be explicit.

"To be effective, researchers have found, conversations about race have to be explicit, in unmistakable terms that children understand. A friend of mine repeatedly told her 5-year-old son, "Remember, everybody's equal." She thought she was getting the message across. Finally, after seven months of this, her boy asked, "Mommy, what's 'equal' mean?"

Bigler ran a study in which children read brief biographies of famous African-Americans. For instance, in a biography of Jackie Robinson, they read that he was the first African-American in the major leagues. But only half read about how he'd previously been relegated to the Negro Leagues, and how he suffered taunts from white fans. Those facts—in five brief sentences were omitted in the version given to the other children.

After the two-week history class, the children were surveyed on their racial attitudes. White children who got the full story about historical discrimination had significantly better attitudes toward blacks than those who got the neutered version. Explicitness works. "It also made them feel some guilt," Bigler adds. "It knocked down their glorified view of white people." They couldn't justify in-group superiority."

I oftentimes wonder exactly what I should be telling the kids.  How to be explicit enough.  The important thing is just to start somewhere - in time you will get more comfortable with talking to your kids about it.  Don't let your fear of saying "the wrong thing" keep you from saying the truth.

There are myriad ways to talk about this explicitly with kids.  One simple way that I've used is to tell them that God made people with all different colors of skin.  That he loves all of us the same, no matter what skin color we have or where we came from.  And that our family loves people with all different skin colors and from all different places, too.  That we're so happy that God made such a beautiful world filled with people of every different color and size and shape.

When kids unknowingly say uncomfortable or embarrassing things about race, it's usually our instinct to shush them.  Sarah could have easily, easily shushed Emmi when she asked why Timon has brown skin.  But because she knows that I believe that it's not only ok, but vital to talk about this stuff, she held back - thankfully - and allowed a positive, open conversation to take place.

Kids learn very early in life to categorize and sort - whether it be based on gender, race, size, t-shirt color, etc.  At a certain age they will naturally leave people out based on physical differences.  That is a normal part of development.  It is up to us as their parents and role models to teach them to be inclusive.  That it is wrong and unkind to choose against being friends with people who look different. 

Let's not choose the easy road of silence.  Let's not let the world teach our kids about race.  Because I'm pretty sure the world will leave out some really important parts.  Like how wonderful it is that we don't all look the same or have the same cultural background - how boring it would be if we did.  And how unique and beautiful each person is.  Like Timon with his oober curly, dark hair and his huge, round, sparkly brown eyes.  And Douglas with his blonde hair with loose, wild curls and his winking blue eyes.

You may believe many positive things about people of all races and about diversity, and you may just assume that your kids know that you feel this way.  But they don't.  If you never talk about it, many of them will assume that you feel negatively about it - that's what the research shows.  How will your kids know how you feel if you don't tell them?!  We can't leave it up to them to guess.  It's up to us to say it out loud.  It's up to us to teach them.
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For a list of ideas of children's books that can jump start some of these conversations about race, check out this blog post.  I also really like "Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes."  It's not super explicit, but it could be a great conversation starter.

Also, I'm sure some of you are unsure about what you think of all of this - I'd encourage you to read the article .  It's really interesting stuff, and it covers a lot of ground.

Different. And The Same. - Part 1

I was at the YMCA the other day with my sister and a friend and our crazy little munchkins.  4-(almost 5)-year-old Emmi said to me, totally out of the blue, "Miss Ginger, how come Timon has brown skin?"  I was caught off guard but felt excited to have the first of countless conversations about skin color and our family with curious little kids.  I said, "I know!  Pretty crazy, huh?  God makes people with all different colors of skin!  He loves it!  He loves all the beautiful colors!  He makes some people with cream colored skin and some with light brown and some with dark brown or tan...all kinds of colors!  Isn't that so cool?!"

She stared at me for a split second and said, with the certainty and precociousness that is always present in her voice, (even when she's not certain at all) - "Well, white babies come from tummies.  But brown babies don't come from tummies."  This was not at all what I was expecting.  I said, "Actually, all babies come from tummies.  Timon grew in another lady's tummy.  Her name's Miss Nicole, and she has brown skin, too - just like his!"  Her mom, Sarah, jumped in at this point and said, "but Ginger gets to be Timon's Mommy."  Emmi, now a little confused, asked why.  Sarah told her that it was because God had a very special plan for our family.

And that was that.

Sarah is a friend of mine.  She is kind and thoughtful and sensitive, so she has asked many questions along the way about how I recommend that she talk to her girls about adoption.  She wanted them to understand it, and she (like most of us) had no idea how to explain such a complicated thing to them.  She knew that they would of course be confused when one day I suddenly had a baby without ever having a big belly.  I told her that we talk about it in terms of whose tummy the kids grew in.  We tell Douglas that he grew in Miss April's belly and that he was adopted.  We keep it pretty simple for now.

I was thrilled about this conversation with Emmi.  It was the first one like it, and it was fun to practice. That's the nice thing about having older kids around - they start asking questions way before Timon is aware of what we're talking about, so it gives me time to practice and fine-tune how I want to communicate this very important message to the people around us.

If someone were listening to this 4-year-old saying that white babies come from tummies but brown babies don't, they might have been offended by what she said.  But really it is a remarkable example of how a child's brain works.  She knew that Timon had brown skin.  She knew that he hadn't grown in my tummy - her mom had confirmed that.  So, the only natural inference to be made if you are a 4-year-old is that brown babies don't grow in bellies.  Simple!

Here's the thing.  Emmi is confident and precocious enough to ask when she is curious about something.  This is a part of her personality that, no doubt, leaves Sarah feeling a little embarrassed at times, but it is a wonderful trait in a lot of ways.  She said what other kids are thinking but are afraid to say.  This enabled me, an adult who cares about her, to understand her more and to inform her perception with truth and love.

My nephew Brendan is the same age and is a totally different personality.  Brendan was there that day and heard his good friend Emmi talking with me about all of this.  He's a perfectionist who doesn't want to disappoint or upset people.  And he's very emotionally tuned in to others - if someone in the room is sad or angry or fearful, he senses it.  So he would probably never have said those things that Emmi so brazenly said that day.  Maybe he would have asked, timidly, in the safety of his own home.  Probably not.  I capitalized on this opportunity and said to him later, "I'm so happy that Emmi asked me those questions today about Timon's brown skin.  She was brave to do that, wasn't she?  If you ever want to ask me any questions about Timon or about his skin or adoption, I want you to, ok?  Do you know that?"  He smiled and nodded his head.   

The point is, all kids are wondering these things - whether they ask us about them or not. 

You may not believe me.  Heck, I wouldn't have believed me a year ago.  In my next post, I'll share the information and research that crossed my path (twice) that completely changed my perspective on talking to kids about race - and my perspective on the idea of color blindness.

The Up Side

The good news is that I don't feel completely worked over by our children every day.  There are so many wonderful, beautiful, hilarious, super-fun minutes and hours and days.

Douglas is learning more and more about emotions, which I find fascinating and beautiful.  For a couple weeks, he kept saying, "Douglas fraid" about new people or things.  Recently, when he got into trouble, he bowed his head down in shame.  I said "Buddy, you don't need to be ashamed, you just need to look in my eyes and say that you're sorry.  You made a mistake.  It's ok."  He looked at me and said "shy."  Oh...I see.  You're shy?  The guy who likes to quote the line from Elf where Will Ferrell stands there singing loudly in a store...Douglas' version is "STORE!  SINGING!"  Yeah, super shy.  One of my favorites that he's learning to express is frustrated.  That one really cracks me up.  "Douglas frustrated" or, now that he's starting to use full sentences - "I very frustrated".  He'll see a random picture of a person or an illustration on a logo or sign and say "man sad?" if he thinks they don't look happy enough.  It melts my heart when he looks at me and says, "Mommy happy?"  Yes, buddy...I'm so very happy.

He also has a very strong sense of standing up for himself - something I think we will eventually be grateful for.  For now, it's a mixture of hilarious and super annoying.  The other night, Micah had a touch of frustration in his voice when he told Douglas to get in his chair for the third time.  Douglas said, "Don't yell at me!!"  If you try to nudge him gently in the right direction in a public place to say, "ok, buddy, time to walk this way", you are met with the very lovely "don't push me!" - which of course draws all kinds of judgmental stares.

He keeps surprising us with his funny, quirky little comments.  "Oh, I see."  "That's plenty."  "Hmm, let's see."  "Alrighty then."  "No way, Jose."  He obviously mimicks us and our sayings a lot, which is a little scary...but very hilarious.

There are moments when I am struck by how very blessed we are.  One of these moments came on this cool night when Douglas was "helping" Micah with the leaves in the back yard.  Watching them was mesmerizing.

Life is good.  Hard as the dickens sometimes - but good.

Timon is finding his voice more and more (it's a loud voice).  He rolls over and squeals with delight and talks to the ceiling or to his toys.  He has a precious, chubby face and loves loves loves to be around people.  He's discovered that those two hands that kept knocking him in the face and getting tangled in his hair are, in fact, his hands and can be used for things like holding toys or reaching up for Daddy or grabbing Grammy's face and pulling her close enough to get his entire mouth around her cheek for a kiss.  He has huge, adorable eyes that look like puppy dog eyes when he's sleepy and are full of light and joy when he's excited.  The older he gets, the more giggly he gets.  All signs seem to point to him being a very spirited, lively little fellow filled with gusto and joy and laughter.  And a temper to match.

The good news is, there is a Talk that I know very well that goes something like this - "passion is your gift, but there is a flip side to it that you have to reign in a bit (aka. the side that makes you yell at people)".  I know this Talk because my mom started giving it to me right around the time that I was old enough to speak.  So.  At least I'm prepared.  Sort of.

Douglas and Timon are starting to really become buddies.  It's so amazing.  When Timon's fussy, he calms right down if Douglas goes over and starts talking to him or just stands by him.  He loves looking at his big brother.  The other night, I was holding Timon at the dinner table.  He was sitting on my leg facing Douglas.  Timon gave him a big smile, as per usual, and Douglas cracked up.  Then Timon started laughing.  Then they broke out in a full-blown giggle sesh.  Nothing was said.  They just looked in each other's eyes and laughed harder than I've ever heard either of them laugh.  This went on for a couple minutes while Micah and I just smiled at each other and watched.  It reminded me of those times when you're slap happy and can't stop laughing.  When's the last time you laughed that hard?  Kids have so much to teach us.  Watching my two sons learn to really love and like each other and become friends is a more thrilling and joyful experience than I ever could have hoped for or imagined.  They are so lucky to have each other.  I am so grateful that they do.

Goodbye, January - Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out

January's over!  Good riddaaaaaance!!!!!

I struggle with feeling down in the dumps pretty much every single January.  The post-holiday letdown combined with frigid temperatures and generally bleak weather pretty much do me in.  I thought this year would be different because my post-holiday blues didn't start the moment I rolled out of bed on December 26th like they usually do.  I was all high and mighty, thinking my advent calendar experience helped me to enjoy the season SO much, be SO present that I wouldn't even be plagued by the usual letdown.

Well.  January took my high and mighty and gave it a beat down.

Having two kids is hard.  Have I said that before?

And, by the way, every time I say this, I have this nagging little voice in the back of my head that says, "You think two is hard!?  Try 3.  Or 4.  Or 5.  Or..."  All I can say is, "Hey voice.  Whatevs!  That doesn't do me any good today!"

I am realizing more and more that sometimes I have a really hard time sitting in pain and not panicking about the fact that the pain is there.  This doesn't always happen to me - I wasn't like this with fertility struggles or during the adoption processes - all very painful and difficult in ways.  But somehow, in cases like this where there is an enormous commitment and a major life change involved (and loss of sleep), I just freaking panic.

"It shouldn't feel this way.  It shouldn't be this hard. What is wrong?  I'm not cut out for this.  I must not be cut out for this.  I can't handle two kids.  What are we going to do?  How can we fix this, change it somehow?  IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!"

To this, my amazing and insightful husband who knows me so very well, says, "Why wouldn't it be hard?  This is a huge adjustment.  Timon has been a really hard baby.  You're exhausted.  You haven't slept well in 5 months.  You've been super sick for two weeks.  Douglas is in a hard stage.  You're still adjusting to two kids.  Of course you're freaking out and of course things are super hard right now.  It's just a season."

To this, I say, "wow...that actually feels really good to hear.  Maybe I can stop bawling long enough to wipe the snot off of my face with something other than my sleeve.  Maybe it really is ok to just feel this way.  To feel freaked out and anxious and stressed and, some days, depressed and bored and like every day is Groundhog Day.  Maybe I can just feel those feelings and stop there instead of using them to launch a full blown attack against who I am as a person - assuming that those feelings somehow mean that I'm inadequate, not up to the task, incapable of doing this well.  Like God somehow made a gigantic mistake in giving me two children and asking me to help raise them.  Maybe it's ok to just feel like crap sometimes and not read anything more into it.  Life is just hard sometimes.  This is a hard season.  I am really tired.  End of story."

It's amazing how the initial feelings themselves aren't the really terrifying part.  It's my reaction to those feelings - my feelings about the feelings - that make me think my world is somehow ending.  And I do that extra-special thing where I assume that how I feel today is how I'll feel for FOR-EV-ER - so, you know, that helps a lot, too.

I am blessed to have several friends who have said some version of "yeah - I've been there.  It's total crap.  It's so freaking hard.  1 to 2 kids is the hardest adjustment of all.  You just have to survive it - get through it.  I promise you it gets better.  And if you need some meds to keep you afloat 'til then, then by God get you some meds, girlfriend."  I love these beautiful women.

I do know that it's not really ideal to try to just survive things.  Ideal would be staying present in the moment rather than just getting through it.  Finding peace in the midst.  But sometimes, some moments, some days, ideal is not possible.  And in those cases, I say hat's off to me for getting through.

 Photo taken by my very talented sister-in-law, Ashley

Some days I feel like everything is going to be ok and I'm going to get through this and everything's going to be fine.  Other days, I strap my kids into their car seats and drive aimlessly around town to avoid the weighty reality that I have two very high maintenance kids right now and I don't know what to do with them or how to keep us all from losing our freaking minds!

So here's what I'm doing.  I am reaching out for all the help I can get my little hands on.  We decided to have a babysitter come once a week during the day.  We hired a cleaning service.  My sister has made us dinners several times.  My mom has jumped in her car twice this past month after desperate phone calls from me that involved more tears and snot and "I can't do this anymore!"s.  She comes and gives me breaks that I desperately need - one day I went to a movie by myself and ate popcorn and drank a ginormous soda - it was magical.  She cooks healthy meals and loves on our kids and wakes up with Timon in the night so that I can get some sleep.

It makes me and Micah really sad sometimes not having any grandparents in town.  I am so very thankful for my mom's willingness to get in her car and come up to help during this crazy time, and for my dad who supports her doing that for me. 

Side note about my mom: I always secretly thought she had ADD because the fact that two of us kids have it means it's very likely that we inherited it from somewhere.  I realized last time she was here that, if she does have it, she has more long-term hyper focus moments (and days) than any ADD person I know.  She comes knowing that things are a bit of a mess around here, so she goes into hyperspeed.  I woke up one morning to find that she had done laundry, swept, and done dishes along with about ten other tasks that take me all day to get done - or sometimes DAYS.  I looked at Dougie and said, "Wow.  Grammy's kickin' A and takin' names!"  He stared blankly at me.  Her ability to hyper-focus and get things done is not what I'm most grateful for, though.  I am grateful for her willingness to show up and love the kids and me and Micah and give of her time and her energy for no other reason than because she loves us.  She gets very little in return other than several sleepless nights and, most times, a slew of germs and sicknesses to take back home with her.  Total win-win for her.  Obviously.

I have never been happier to see January 31st come and go.  We've been super lucky to have an unseasonably warm January, but there's still something about that month that just gets under my skin.  So.  February 1 came with rays of sunshine and 60 degrees.  I love you, February.  May you bring me sleep and patience and fairy dust that makes me nice and friendly to everyone.  Or, alternatively, fairy dust that I can sprinkle over my children to make them forget the times I screamed at them.

Although, truth be told, I agree with one of my friends who said that kids learn so much more from us making mistakes and humbling ourselves and asking their forgiveness than they would if we never made mistakes and were Mary-Freakin'-Poppins.  All that would teach them is that they need to try to be perfect - and who wants that for their kids?! 

Alright.  Teach kids that they don't need to try to be perfect by making lots of mistakes of my own.  CHECK.  Double check.