Racial Jackassery (J)

Yesterday I became aware for the comments made by an Alabama state representative.  During a March 2014 debate on abortion, Rep. Alvin Holmes said this:

“I will bring you $100,000 cash tomorrow if you show me a whole bunch of whites that adopted blacks in Alabama. I will go down there and mortgage my house and get it cash in 20 dollar bills and bring it to you in a little briefcase.”

(A full article can be found here.  Be sure to stick around for the lawmaker’s beautiful application of Godwin’s Law at the end of the article.)

Fortunately, my A to Z challenge letter is “J”, because that quote brings a couple of “J” words to mind*.

Is his joking?

Jeez, I think he really means that.

Ignorant jerk.

What a jackass.

*Lets be honest, that steaming pile of ignorance brings to mind many other words – many of which do not begin with “J”, and very few of which I would publish under my own name.  

Before you start to think this is random outrage over something that was said by a low-level politician 1,500 miles away, you should know this:  I am white.  My wife is white.  Our oldest daughter has a white birth mom and (we believe) a black father.  Our youngest two had black birth parents.  True, we did not adopt our children in Alabama* (ours were all born in Florida), but that does not change my initial reaction:  Alvin Holmes’s comments are shocking and offensive to me.

*But after we received clearance to leave Florida with our youngest daughter, we drove across Alabama on our way home, including a fun-filled 75 minutes of gridlock outside of Birmingham.  Personally, I think that entitles me to a share of the $100,000 in that briefcase.

Once my initial outrage subsides, I find myself torn on this.  There is a part of me that will always stand up for my family – especially against those who think we don’t belong together because the color of our skin doesn’t match.  I’m sure we get odd looks and second glances when we’re out, but I don’t notice.*  I have never had anybody say anything negative to me – but frankly, I chalk that up to living in the Midwest where if we can’t say something nice, we don’t say anything at all.

*Okay, there may have been one time in the grocery store where I felt like a black woman was giving me the stink eye, but that may have just been my paranoia – or the fact that my oldest two were being rather rambunctious. 

So yeah, if we lived within four hours of the Alabama capital building, we probably would have gone to show Rep. Alvin Holmes that we are one of many families who proudly adopted black kids.

Rep. Harris, this white dad and his three black kids will take our $100,000 now.

But there is another part of me that wants to let this whole thing go.  In reading some of the other public statements that Rep. Holmes has made, it seems pretty clear to me that has a lot of unresolved anger and distrust for white people.  I completely understand that.  Alvin Harris is a longtime state representative, having served 32 years in the Alabama House.  Alvin Harris is also a black man.  Living in Alabama as a black man, I can only assume Holmes has known very real and very ugly racism and discrimination – the type of which a white kid in Nebraska, born the year Holmes took office (1974) can not even imagine.

Back in my business travel days, I spent some time in small town Alabama.  I remember being shocked by some of the things I heard coming out of the mouths of the people I was working with (i.e. white folks working in a bank).  There were not any direct slurs or words that begin with “N”, but there was plenty of things that I found inappropriate.  My point:  Racism is real in the South, and I have no doubt that Alvin Holmes and the people he loves and represents have been on the receiving end of a bunch of crap from white people.

I also know that one of the toughest things to do is to cure ignorance.  It can be done, but too often it’s not worth the hassle.  With his comments, Alvin Holmes appears to be painting all whites with the same brush.  He is saying that all things being equal, white people would choose white children, so why would any white person want to adopt a black child?  I could list off the reasons why we specifically chose an interracial adoption program through our agency, but I get the impression that would not matter to Rep. Holmes.  In his eyes, we “settled” for black kids instead of white ones.  As horribly, hopelessly wrong as he is, how do you combat that?  I don’t think you can.  Besides, I have better things to do than try to change the mind of somebody who has their mind made up. I’d rather spend that time with my beautiful children.

*   *   *

(Author’s note:  Wondering why there is a random letter in parentheses in the title of this post?  Not sure how this post corresponds to the daily letter in the April A to Z Challenge?  Like clicking on links?  These questions are all answered here.)

Surprise!

My wife and I are infertile.  I’ve long since come to grips with this, and as such, I understand there are some aspects of a fertile male’s life that I will never experience.  For example, I’ll never get to put my hand on my wife’s tummy and feel a kick.  I’ll never see a child that shares the same DNA as we do*.  I’ll never have the “delivery room” experience, or get cut an umbilical cord.**

*This is probably for the best as our collective family health risks would likely make any biological child one big, genetic time bomb.  Put it this way:  if there is a charity walk to support it, you can probably find it somewhere in our families.

**Also for the best as I’m irrationally weird about belly buttons.  Just typing this sentence makes me uncomfortable.

I am completely, perfectly, 100% fine with not experiencing these things.  Through the wonder of adoption, we have two healthy and happy children who are more beautiful than anything my flawed DNA could ever hope to be apart of.  We are blessed beyond reason.  We’ve talked about adopting again, but I’ve been firm in wanting to be done.

Or so I thought.

*  *   *

On a typical Tuesday morning (July 23, 2013), I’m sitting at my desk doing some work.  My wife calls and ask if I want to take an “early lunch”.  Looking at the clock on my PC, I see that it’s 10:29 am.

I am far from hungry, but I can tell that my wife wants to talk about something.

In person.

Now.

We agree to meet at home in 15 minutes and I head out the door.  I arrive home fully expecting to hear some job-related news.  Her department has been having some issues, and I’m wondering if she was fired.  Or if she got fed up and walked out.  Maybe she was offered a vacant management position.

We step in the house, and she tells me “_______________”.

Yeah, I have no idea what she said – either exactly or paraphrased.  It was something about a phone call from Florida.  But the message was this:

The birth mother of our son is pregnant and has chosen to place the baby for adoption.  Our adoption agency wants to know if we would accept the placement.

And just like that, I got to experience something I never thought would happen to me:  being told “You’re going to be a father” completely and totally out of the blue.

According to my wife, my initial response was “So you’re not fired?”

*   *   *

The next 20-30 minutes are a bit of a blur.  The baby is going to be a girl.  My wife always wanted to have two girls.  She’s a giddy, teary, excited mess.  She wants this.

I think of my son, picturing his beautiful face.  There is no way I could ever look into his deep, dark eyes and say “Well, buddy, Mommy and I had a chance to adopt a baby sister – your biological half-sister – but we said no.  Sorry, little dude.”  As much I was done – had you asked me 45 minutes earlier, I would have told you that I was more likely to grow a third arm than have a third child – this was a no-brainer for me.

When we called the agency’s case worker back to say “yes”, she said “Well, that was fast!”

Of course it was fast.  We’re talking about my daughter.

*   *   *

I’ll admit it:  I’m in shock.  As I type this, I still am in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there’s one other little tidbit from that first conversation with my wife that I haven’t shared yet:  this baby girl’s due date is August 19.  2013.  We don’t get nine months.  We don’t even get nine weeks.

This is a serious game changer for us.  With our previous two adoptions, we were able to plan and save.  I don’t know if you know this or not, but adoption is kind of expensive.  While my wife’s employer has some adoption benefits, it barely puts a dent in what we need.  Can I fit three car seats in my sedan?  We don’t have an open bedroom so somebody will have to double up.  There are a thousand other things that change.  The classic parenting joke of having to switch from a man-to-man to a zone defense.  Knowing that I may not sleep through the night again until 2014.  May not dine in a restaurant with my family until 2015.  May not be able to retire until 10 years after I die.

But it will all work out.  It will all be worth it.

This is my daughter.

*   *   *

As you are reading this, we’re sitting in a rented vacation home in Orlando, Florida – that’s where our daughter was born.  We’ve actually been here for a while.  We believed the birth mom would go into labor early, and since we were driving from our home in Nebraska*, we decided to take advantage of a weekend to get down here.

*Yeah, that drive was not exactly a breeze.  1,400 miles with kids that apparently are incapable of sleeping in a car – no matter the time of day.  All I know is the person who thought to put a DVD player in minivans will forever hold a fond place in my heart.  I’m sure the drive back with a newborn will be much better.

We took placement today (Saturday, August 24), and baby was discharged from the hospital into our custody. Now, we hang out here and wait for our ICPC clearance to leave Florida and reenter Nebraska.

Waiting for paperwork to process may sound like a real drag – especially to adoptive parents whose lives can feel like one giant form, but this is different.  This is relaxing, stress-free time.  This is bonding with a baby, and spending the quality family time that politicians preach about (before they go sleep with their mistress).  In short, this is heaven with take out food and a swimming pool.

*   *   *

I know most of my friends are probably reading this with their jaws dragging on the floor.

Trust me, I can relate to the disbelief you’re feeling.

I do want to apologize to you for not letting you know about this sooner.  But as you may remember, we got burned once by a failed adoption.  Even though we had absolutely no reason to believe it would happen this time, the simple truth is that until the relinquishment papers are signed, the birth mom has every right to parent this baby.  So we wanted to be guarded and protect ourselves.  Neither my wife nor I had any desire to go through the pain of having to tell everybody in our lives that we got our hearts broken.  Again.  Therefore, we decided to wait until she was born and her birth mom had signed the relinquishment papers.

I hope you can understand why we had to keep it a secret.

Besides, everybody loves a good surprise.

Baby Lexi

*   *   *

Alexandra Grace Paris Feit was born at 3:54 am on Thursday, August 22.  Lexi, as we will call her, weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces and was 20 inches long.  She is a perfectly healthy little girl with a full head of silky black hair.  Her birth mama needed an emergency C-section*, but is recovering well.  We understand that she was released from the hospital today.

*Almost a week past her due date, little Lexi was in no hurry to be born.  We were told that she was hanging on to her birth mama as the doctor delivered her.

Her birth mom chose her first name (from the two finalists we had narrowed it down to).  Her first middle name (Grace) is the name of her great-grandma (my wife’s grandma) who is very dear to us.  Her second middle name (Paris) was given to her by her birth mom, and is the name of her grandpa (her birth mom’s daddy) who shared a birthday with Lexi.

Lexi’s big sister Jamie is over the moon, and wants nothing more than to hold her and kiss her.  Lexi’s big brother Cameron doesn’t quite grasp what is going on yet, but we’re sure that he will be a wonderful (and protective) big brother.

My beautiful family