Maybe it's just my lack of sleep and general fatigue making me lose all my patience and perspective, but I am getting sick of all the random people on the street who feel like they have the right to stop me on the street and have a conversation, because I am a white woman carrying a black baby. And I'm getting sick of people I've just met telling me things about my own children and arguing with what I say, just because my child matches their skin color and not mine. Or because they figure that white women may go to college and make money, but black women know about children and keeping house.
And I'm getting REALLY sick of people asking me "is that your baby?" Not because I don't understand the sentiment. Not because I imagine we're blending in. Not because I'm unwilling to talk about it. But because that particular phrase seems to signal a particular attitude.
No matter how tired I am, if people seem genuinely curious about why I'm carrying a black baby, or whether they call me mama, or if I'm going to keep them, or what happened to their parents, I stop and smile and answer their questions. Most of those people just ask a couple simple questions, smile, and move on. Many of them "tsk tsk" about parents who don't take care of their children, and thank me for helping them.
But the following conversation ALWAYS goes like this:
"Is that your baby?"
Me, with a mild smile "yes, she is."
"No she is not."
Why do they even ask, if they don't plan on accepting the answer?
Usually I am walking and I smile and keep walking. But I have had people stand in my way or try and grab me to continue the argument. Today I got off the mini-bus in Gaba, and was putting Buttercup on my back and arranging my shopping bags, so I was stuck for a little while. I have heard all these words SO MANY times by now.
Woman, watching me and smiling, finally gets brave and comes up and asks, in a mixture of English and Luganda, all of which I understand: "Is that your baby? You are muzungo (white)."
Me, with a smile: "Yes, she is."
Woman: "No, she not your baby, you are white."
Me: "Yes, she's mine." (Sometimes I add "she's mine now" or "I take care of her now" but that seemed like too many words at this point.)
Nearby man, deciding the conversation isn't clear enough: "IS THAT YOUR BABY??"
Me: Yes, she is.
Man: NO, SHE NOT YOUR BABY!
Woman: She you friend baby.
Man: She is black and you are white. She is not your baby.
Woman: She friend baby, she not you baby.
Man: She is not resembling you! Look at her, SHE NO RESEMBLING YOU!
Me: You're right, she doesn't resemble me. (I grab my last bags and walk away.)
Woman: Where friend? She friend baby.
Man: IS BLACK BABY, IS NOT YOU BABY!!!
Not only do I not really feel like explaining adoption to people who have never thought about it and have no intention of listening to me, I've started to not get into unasked for details on behalf of all the other multiracial families out there. As it so happens, my girls are not very dark, and don't have particularly typical African features (especially Buttercup). I have seen equally black-looking babies around here who ARE the biological children of white mothers. Or they could be my nieces, which culturally are the same as your own children in this culture. Besides, I don't think a 2.3 second glance, while the child is half behind me, moving around, and tucked up in a wrap, is really enough in which to perform a detailed assessment of features. I think the whole principle is "dark skin + light skin does not equal family relationship of any type."
Another time was in the taxi park -- Dante could not have imagined better chaos -- when someone inside a taxi as I walked by (slithered through all the taxis is more accurate) actually tried to hold onto me in order to continue our conversation. Repetition seems to be his main form of persuasion.
Man: Is that your baby?
Me: Yes, she is.
Man: No she not your baby. That baby is black!
Me: (trying to walk)
Man: Look at baby, baby is black!
Man: This baby is black, you no see baby is black?
Man: You see dat baby? BABY IS BLACK BABY! (yelling at me in the distance)
(Note: the word spelled b-l-a-c-k is actually pronounced bi-LACK-ie in African English. Bih-LACK-ie-BA-by. It all flows.)
And that is currently my least favorite conversation. Runner-ups to follow later.
Oh I absolutely hate when people who wouldn't normally talk to me, strike up a conversation because I have something unusual about me (like, taking a cello on the T, for example). This sounds about a billion times worse, especially with the negativity implied! I wonder how the conversation goes if you bring up adoption? Do they understand the term? If they say "is that your baby" and you say "yes, I'm adopting her," would that make it better or worse?
ReplyDeleteI don't think most people understand the words "foster" or "adopt." The people who do are the ones who figure out that's what we're doing without asking!
ReplyDeleteReally, the frustrating people start in telling me about her before even listening to any explanation I might offer.