Black and Adopted

As if navigating raising a Black boy wasn't hard enough, Amy and I also have to help Asher understand and embrace his adopted status.  We've obviously had lots of time to ourselves own and embrace this way of building a family, and while it carries its share of heartache there is also so much that is precious about it.  

But, practically, for a little boy it can be bewildering and quite frankly melancholy to unpack this aspect of his identity.  I forget how the subject came up between Amy and Asher, but Amy was talking about Asher being birthed out of his birth mother's body, and he pointed to her and said "you?" and she had to say, "no, I'm your mommy but you had a birth mother who gave birth to you." Which confused and I think saddened him a little that he didn't have that connection with Amy.

Then the other day Asher was telling me about a new friend of his and did I know him.  I said, "is he tall or short," and Asher said "short like me."  And then I said "is he white or Black," and Asher wasn't sure what I meant.  So I explained, and said "you're Black...and Mommy's white, and Jada, Aaron, and I are Asian," and all of what that meant.  Which, again, confused and I think saddened him a little, that we weren't the same.

Part of what is beautiful about what are called "conspicuous families" is that you really get to see and experience that love is stronger than differences.  I mean, how important and awesome is that?  That people are different is important to acknowledge, and that love bridges those differences so completely and powerful even more so.  Asher is surrounded by such a love and always will be.  But, for the moment, he's growing up in ways that allow him to understand the differences, and at this stage that is a little bewildering.