Losing Kevin

So the judge decided that Little Black Kevin would not be returned to the White foster family who has raised him for the last two of his three years of life. Instead he is now living with a Black family in Hershey, PA who actually came out of hiding during last week's trial. They weren't really hiding, just trying to keep a low profile in the media frenzy of this racially charged case. And even though it was reported earlier that only one of the two parents were Black, turns out they both belong to the club.

As you may recall, Kevin was abruptly removed from his foster home in Chester County, PA, two days ahead of schedule. The White family he was living with wanted to adopt him, but was informed that because they had already adopted a child (the wife's 11-year-old niece) this year, they were ineligible to adopt Kevin. So the Black family got him. The foster family asked a judge to review the case to see if this seemingly ridiculous law in adoption procedure was binding or if they were losing Kevin because he is Black and they..well...are not.

The judge ruled that the White people were not being discriminated against because of their race and that in fact the law does say that only one child a year can be adopted and it was in the best interest of the child that he be placed with the Black family in Hershey. It was reiterated, however, in numerous ways that race had nothing to do with the judge's decision. Interestingly, the Black adoptive couple pointed out that race wasn't the determining factor here, but it would be foolish not to think that Kevin would be better off being raised in a household where he shared the same racial/cultural background as the rest of the family. Is this true? Is this even the point when there are so many children languishing in foster care and group homes? The Black family did say that they might even adopt another child and that more African-Americans should be adopting and acting as foster parents. It's that Middle class Black folks taking care of our own theory. But here I am wondering, why did they have to take Kevin, if he already had a family that wanted him. Why not save another child from the system? Maybe they believed they were saving him from a life of mistaken identity.

Before I close out on this topic and discussion, I'd like to talk to someone who knows. I'm going to knock on the door of one my neighbors, a White woman with three adopted children, one Asian and two Black. I bet she has an opinion that might give us all something to think about as we kiss our kids goodnight. Here's a kiss for Kevin.

Peace Out from the city of Brotherly Love.

Adoption Update

For anyone who wants to know. That White couple in Philly who lost custody of the African-American foster son they wanted to adopt did not give up the fight. A judge is currently hearing testimony in the case and is expected to rule by the end of the week as to who will get the child; the White family who has reared him for two of his three years or the mostly Black couple who wants to adopt him now. Stay tuned!

Better than...

Why is it that everyone feels better when they know there's someone worse off than themselves? I don't mean in the "you shouldn't complain about how small your house is, at least you don't live in a cardboard box on the street," kind of way. I don't mean in a way that is supposed to inspire gratitude for what you do have. No, I mean in the way that makes different racial and cultural groups feel superior because there's always another group below them.

Here's an example. I was just recently in Spain, visiting relatives of my husband and conducting research for a book I'm working on about Black people in Spain. I asked one of my husband's cousins what she thought the Spanish perception of Black people was and she answered thoughtfully, "We don't have problems with Black people. We think of them generally as happy people." And then she added, "It's the Gypsies and the South Americans that we associate with delinquency." And do you know what my first treacherous thought was? 'Whew, at least my people aren't the lowest minorities on the Spanish totem pole.' And when a well-meaning historian explained to me that in Spain, I'd have a much easier time than let's say a Moroccan woman, again a wave of relief came over me. Not because he implied that the Spanish people could learn to love me, but because there was someone worse of than me in this world, giving me a momentary sense of racial superiority. I admit it, I felt a little a little smug that my Black skin would be considered better than a Moroccan's tawny hue.

It was a short lived feeling though. And I was immediately filled with guilt and shame for reveling in Hitler-esque racial pecking orders. It only took me a moment to realize that if the Gypsies, Moroccans and Latinos were at risk in Spain, my little black ass couldn't be all that safe. And stop to think, nor would my curly-haired half-black, half Spanish, Moroccan looking children! But I go back to that feeling of relief and joy and wonder how many wars and crimes and human sufferings could have been avoided if it didn't feel so good to be better than someone else.

On that thoughtful note, check out this website called Tangled Roots (http://www.yale.edu/glc/tangledroots/) that examines the shared history of African and Irish Americans -- two groups constantly trying to prove themselves better than the other -- in the early years of this country. Wonderful food for thought.

Peace Out

This is Still Happening?

My American Melting Pot is supposed to be a blog dedicated to tracking multi-culti phenomenon in these here United States. And while it seems only appropriate to talk about immigration reform, I'm not going to because I think every possilbe opinion on the subject has already been dissected to death. And besides, a little story from my new home town of Philly, PA has grabbed my attention.

Last week the Philadelphia Inquirer reported on one of those heart wrenching stories of a foster child being ripped from his foster parents because another family wanted to adopt him. And even though the three-year old boy had lived with his foster parents for almost two years (meaning practically his whole life) and they themselves wanted to adopt him, he was still removed in one of those dramatic made-for television moments, complete with police enforcement, confused parents and wailing child. The foster parents, Randall and Susan Borelly, wanted to adopt the child but were informed that because they had adopted a child already this year, they could not adopt Kevin.

Why does this merit mention on MyAmericanMeltingPot? Because guess what, Kevin is BLACK, the Borelly's are WHITE and the new adoptive family is wait for it --mostly Black -- that is, at least one parent is colored, according to reports. So the official reason why Kevin can't stay with the only family he's ever known is because his foster parents made the poor choice to adopt another child first. Does that make sense? Of course what the Borelly's are saying is that Kevin is being taken away because he's Black.

Interestingly, there have been no published reports of the adoptive family and how they feel about all of this. Would they still want to adopt Kevin, knowing another family has already bonded with him and wants to adopt him themselves? In the meantime, the Borelly's are taking legal action to try to get Kevin returned to them and his biological relatives have gone on record saying they think Kevin should be returned to the Borelly's even going so far as to stand in the rain in front of the Chester County Courthouse to lend their support to the Borelly's rally for Kevin's return.

So in 2006 is RACE still a determining factor in who can raise a child? Thoughts?

A Mixed Review for "Mixed"

I just finished reading Angela Nissel's laugh-aloud funny new memoir, Mixed: My Life in Black and White (Villard). As you can tell by the not so subtle title, the book chronicles Nissel's life as a confused child and angry young adult trying to make sense of her biracial identity. From her all-white Catholic School experience where a nun shamed her for admitting to eating chitlins to her stint on the psych ward in a Philadelphia hospital, Nissel has a way of making her search for a satisfying racial identity humorous and fun to read. You can see why she's worked her way up from writer to consulting producer on the NBC sitcom, Scrubs.

Still, while I enjoyed reading Mixed, part of me got that, " tragic mulatto," tingle when I put the book down. And before somebody calls me a nasty name for actually writing that tired cliche, I must defend. I think Nissel's book is well-written, inspiring in many ways and will probably resonate with many people. In fact, many of her experiences in all-White environments or all-Black environments mirrored my own growing up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the 1970s and 80s. The tragedy in Nissel's case, as well as many of the other biracial people who have written memoirs, is not their mixed race identity however, it's their dysfunctional family. Nissel's White father not only cheated on her Black mother several times (always with Black women!), but managed to be a stereotypical dead-beat dad after the divorce forcing her mother to shuttle her children into different neighborhoods, schools and homes barely escaping poverty. Who wouldn't be angry and depressed with that kind of life?

Having seen it for myself a gazillion times over, children with parents of different races don't have to end up angry and isolated. I'm not naive or stupid and would never suggest that all they need is love. But I do believe with an intact family structure many of the PROBLEMS could be managed like any other issue of race/culture/identity/teen angst/acne/raging hormones/sex ed etc. With loving conversation, hard work and maybe a trip to the motherland or at least a decent museum. I'm sure that someone has written such a book, the "happy mulatto" perhaps, but as we all know tragedy sells so much better. I just hope the skeptics and haters out there, (which there are still many), don't believe that Ms. Nissel's anger and despair is what all mixed children must go through.

Until next time. I'd still totally recommend Mixed, because it is insightful and HiLarious. And because Halle Berry reportedly scooped up the movie rights so you can be all in the know before it hits the big screen (or the little screen as I hear it may be an HBO deal).

Peace Out

Welcome to My American Meltingpot. This is my space to devote to what is both my obsession and my life, those things called Race and Culture and Identity. I am a Black woman married to a Spanish man with two SpaNegro children. My best friend is half-Japanese and half Irish. My godchildren have a Kenyan mother and a Jewish father from Detroit. I used to live in Brooklyn where my son's pre-school playmates weren't considered normal if two languages weren't spoken in the home. I love this part of America. The funny thing is, usually Race and Culture and Identity are always considered PROBLEMS. And sometimes they are, but a lot of times they aren't. I'm here to chronicle them all, as I see fit.

Expect to find commentary on political events, news stories and my kids' playdates. I'll also throw in a book review, interview and maybe even an amazing photograph here and there. If, of course, I can figure out the technology of blogging. I'll admit this right now, I am a major technophobe, but I'm trying to turn away from my Luddite past. So let the games begin.

Peace Out!