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White kids without shoes, white privilege

Kate Maguire,
Champaign-Urbana, IL

There is a parenting trend happening now towards “natural” childrearing which conjures up for me a picture of young kids frolicking barefoot in the grass, with grass and dirt-stained knees, perhaps not even completely dressed and fully enjoying the outdoors as nature intended. I live in a higher socioeconomic, predominantly white neighborhood in my city, and as a white mom with small children regularly encounter this parenting philosophy. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with it, I can’t help but always wonder that this parenting trend is not open to people of color. A white parent with a dirt caked, shoeless child running through the neighborhood is given the benefit of the doubt as “natural” or “crunchy”. A black parent would more readily be labeled a neglectful or bad parent, and that could have dire consequences for their family. This doesn’t seem fair to me at all. I have thought is over and over again since becoming a mom, and this is the first place I have ever voiced it.

Two white dads. Three black kids.

image9Jack Montgomery,
Washington, DC.

My husband and I got married and adopted three beautiful children on the same day last summer. Happy times! I have learned more since these kids have arrived than I ever new possible. A same-sex parent family with trans racial kids draws a lot of attention both in the big city and in a rural Wal-Mart.

With Them, I’m Visable. Without, Invisable.

Christy Braddock,
Silver Spring, MD.

Marc Quarles’ 6 words spoke to me when featured on All Things Considered this morning: ‘With Kids, I’m Dad. Alone, Thug’

I am a white mom of 2 children of color and 2 caucasian children. When I am with my black children, I feel visable in all race communities in both positive and negative ways. When I am alone or with my white children, we are entirely unnoticed.

There might be little black children.

Caroline Hutton Raszewski
Columbia, SC

As boycotts and riots raged around the South in the early 60’s I was oblivious. It was the first day of school. Mother was braiding my hair as my brother, one year older than I, lay on her bed. She grew serious. “There might be little black children at your school this year”, she said. “I want you to be nice to them.” My brother answered, “Oh Mama, I’ll be nice, don’t you know they can play good ball.” What I suppose is most amazing about this story is that my mother hailed from a small SC town amd my father from Oxford, Mississippi. I know now this attitude may have been a hard one for them, but they were intelligent people. I am proud they were aware of the changing world.

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