My kids are bi-racial. Have I mentioned that? I don’t think I have here.
I’m Asian-American. My folks immigrated to this country and two years later, I was born. I effectively beat my parents, sister and the rest of the extended family to citizenship! I had the usual experiences immigrant children have being raised in this country. I learned to straddle the fence between two cultures. But that’s another topic for another post some day.
The Husband, on the other hand, is 100% Midwest America.
Hence, our children are a gorgeous combination of kimchi and white bread. We live in a fairly diverse area, so they aren’t the only mixed-race kids around. But there are also a whole lot of not-mixed kids, too. Enough so that our kids are definite minorities, even among other minorities.
Last week, Bito attended a day camp through the county’s parks and recreation. There were many Asian families whose children were attending (Stuff Asian People Like: County Rec!). The Husband even asked me after he picked up Bito one afternoon, “Is this Asian camp or something like that?”
Anyway. I felt a little self-conscious when I was dropping off or picking up Bito…as if I was being judged by the many Asian parents. I wondered if they were looking at my children and thinking, “Ah. Those kids have a gaijin father,” and thus thought less of us. Reverse prejudice? Perhaps. I am not ashamed of my kids or the choice I made to marry a Caucasian. In many Asian countries, homogeneousness is desired and is a source of pride for the people. Knowing this Asian ethnic pride makes me wonder if other Asians feel sad or are ashamed of me when they see me with my children.
Then again, it’s awfully narcissistic of me to think that others are thinking about me and my kids. But isn’t this something we all do? I ran a draft of this post by a friend of mine, and she returned with a comment that gave me pause:
Not related to race, but whenever I see a Muslim or Hasidic woman in NYC, which is usually when my hair is loose and I’m wearing a tank top, I wonder if a) she thinks I’m a ho for baring my shoulders/legs/hair to the world or b) if she’s jealous that I can and do wear whatever I want.
Perhaps there’s an option c) She’s not thinking of me at all. That’s probably it, but we fool ourselves into thinking It’s All About Us.
I’m not sure where I am going with this train of thought, other than to share my feelings of insecurity when I am amongst a large group of Asians. Raising bi-racial children presents its own sets of challenges, which I hope to share some here. Stay tuned.
