Wendy Allmendinger
North Attleboro, MA
I was asked this question far too many times to count when my children were little. I am white, my two beautiful boys are black. The question was often followed by, “Not that there is anything wrong with that.” Depending on my mood at the moment, my answers ranged from a terse “Yes” to a sarcastic “Thank you for your approval.” Once, after a particularly aggressive and obviously disapproving woman asked me the question, I asked her if she was asking me if I had sex with their father. She stammered something unintelligible and retreated. I should note that most of the people who asked me this question were white women, but not all. After my first son was born, a black woman asked me what my baby was mixed with. I was new to the question at the time and told her his father is black. What I was thinking was, “Sperm and egg. How do you mix your babies?” Children (boys and girls, black and white) asked the question almost as often but in a very different way. They asked if the boys were my sons or if I was their mother. One little girl asked me “How come you growed a brown one?” I was always more than happy to explain that they were my children, that I was their mother, and how I growed a brown one. The children had no judgment, no value and no opinion about my answer. They had a natural curiosity about a visible difference; not the apparent judgment, the underlying hostility or the obvious ignorance of the adults who asked. At some point the question stopped being asked. I think it was right around the time my boys were as tall as I was. It certainly hasn’t been asked since they both began shaving and tower over me. But the reasons for that may be a wb ole different rant…
