E-Newsletter -
Mar 2009
In this issue
Talking to Our Children
About Race
Ask Ellen
C.A.S.E. Connections:
Meet Valerie Kunsman
Talking to Our Children About Race
by Hannah Worthingon
We pulled up to a little country roadside restaurant and my Dad went
in to “check it out.” It was sometime in the late 50s
or early 60s and somewhere in the South, a region of the country we had
never visited before. My mother and little brother and I waited in the
car. My Dad came back to say we’d have to find another restaurant.
I really needed to go to the bathroom, and my father, not my mother,
walked me in.
As we approached the outer glass doors, I read the official
looking note posted there: Whites Only. All eyes now on the strangers
at the door, I inquired loudly of my Dad, “What does that mean?” No
answer.
We plodded through the restaurant to the bathroom. My anxiety
was unbearable. With my own childhood understanding of “whites
only” limited to sorting the clothes before washing them, I pleaded
with my Dad that I wasn’t wearing anything white. My Dad hustled
me into the bathroom and out of the restaurant with no additional conversation.
Finally in the car, still fuming that my Dad let me use the
bathroom where I wasn’t allowed, I knew I’d get a straight
answer from my mother. She explained that
the rule probably didn’t apply to children. Satisfied, I settled
in for another chorus of “There’s a Hole in the Bucket” with
my little brother as we drove to the next restaurant.
What did
my parents teach me about race and racism that day? There was no “race
talk.” There was, instead, my parents being my parents: taking
us on yet another road trip to explore our world, keeping us safe, and protecting
us from the bad stuff. It has taken a long time – nearly 50 years – for
me to access all of the lessons of that day.
I’ve since learned that I am white, apparently not a concept I’d
encountered previously in my lily-white world. And I’ve learned
that, for some folks anyway, being white is a club from which others
can be excluded by not being white. That day I learned that the white
people who overtly exclude people for not being white are scary enough
that not only had my Dad chosen not to eat there, but also contrary to
our usual protocol, he, rather than my mother, escorted me to the bathroom.
And I learned about white on white prejudice when it inevitably occurred
to me that my Dad wasn’t reacting to the Whites Only sign but to
the “looks” of the white folks in the restaurant.
I learned that, as a child, it was very important to me to follow
the exclusionary rule – even while thinking how silly the rule
was. And I learned that my parents were not going to jump on that teachable
moment – not then, not the next week, not in the next 20 years.
I know that I, too, have relied on unspoken lessons to talk to my children
about race and racism.
In preparation for this article, I polled three of my grown
sons, adopted domestically, and placed as older children, having brown
skin and Latino heritage. I asked them how we had prepared them for racism
and how we had talked to them about race and racism. They all agreed
that we had never had “the race talk.”
But, they recognize that our providing the opportunity for close
relationships with members of their birth family has been crucial in
their identity formation. They also all spoke fondly of the diversity
in their school community and the expectation and monitoring of respect
for all people, driven by the Catholic belief system taught there. They
explained that being with others – both white and non-white – gave
them exposure to reality rather than relying on stereotypes. They said
that produced less racism in them than they thought they might have developed
in an exclusively Latino school community.
Well, I was actually looking for examples of how we had prepared
them for being the recipients, not the bearers, of racism. They didn’t
share any of those examples, but they all wanted to assure me that they
know racism exists, that they have been profiled and stereotyped by people
of various races, including their own, and right now their focus is on
not being racist themselves.
I find myself asking the same questions that I asked in my previous
newsletter article: Did being raised by parents who had the luxury of
being blinded to the difference in skin tones give them thicker skins?
Did it give them the ability to see other people’s wrong-headed
assumptions based on skin color as irrational and unfounded, rather than
as personal attacks? Did being raised with the privileges of the dominant
white middle class American culture give them the ability to laugh off
misguided principles such as racial profiling and racial stereotyping? Do
they expect to succeed in holding themselves and others accountable solely
to the content of their characters?
Or, is there some intrinsic value in actually putting the “race
talk” into words. The U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder indicates
there is. He stated that, "though this nation has proudly thought
of itself as an ethnic melting pot, in things racial we have always been
and continue to be, in too many ways, essentially a nation of cowards… I
think the first thing is to acknowledge we have a difficult time talking
about race and stereotypes. If we can't admit that, we can't turn the
corner."
Is it too late to have the “race talk?” What is so hard about
talking about race and stereotypes with my children? Am I still not convinced
that talking about stereotypes doesn’t just dignify the stereotypes?
Am I reluctant to identify with a privileged race, especially when talking
with my children not of that privileged race, for fear of patronizing
them? Am I still not convinced that acknowledging white privilege isn’t
the same thing as perpetuating it?
Or, is it more personal: one more reminder of how I am different
from my children? Is it one more validation that adoption is
second best and that the only way to bequeath my privilege is through
birth? Is it just one more nature vs. nurture debate – one more reminder that,
even though we know we are a family, the rest of the world still has
its doubts?
As a therapist, I encourage parents to prepare for the inevitable
teachable moments. They come up around adoption and sex, as well
as race, to name just a few. Here are some of my thoughts on preparing
for those moments:
- Know yourself. Know what you believe and why – it shows
when you least expect it. That might include talking to your
parents and/or siblings about how a topic was “taught” at
your house, or by reviewing the tenets of the religion or philosophy
you live by, or by taking a hard look at how you present yourself to
the world.
- Know your children. Know their signs of anxiety around a particular
subject. Know what they are exposed to on television, in magazines
and books, in the neighborhood, at your place of worship, and at school. Know
how they learn best, whether by listening or by seeing or by doing.
- Know the topic. Know the language of the topic, including the
cruder words and concepts. Know what language is commonly acceptable
and what is not. This might start by searching the internet,
reading books, or attending workshops.
- Know what others believe and why. Look for a balance in views. On
the topic of transracial adoption for instance, read Gail Steinberg
and Beth Hall and balance their views with Elizabeth Bartholet. The
internet, books, magazines, support groups and workshops are all good
starts.
Teachable moments are, by definition, “fleeting opportunities
to be sensed and seized in the midst of being, living and interacting
with the world.” Lessons are learned whether or not the teacher
or the pupil is aware of the teaching. Preparing for those moments
might make them all the richer for both you and your child.
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Ask
Ellen: Responding to Hurtful Statements
by
Ellen Singer, LCSW-C
Dear Ellen,
My 13-year-old daughter came home in tears last week. She has
always wanted to be popular and recently was befriended by a very popular
girl whom she sits next to in English class. This girl has been inviting
my daughter to join her and her friends to sit with them in the lunchroom
at school, which she has been doing. The tears were because she found
out that two of her closest friends are now blocking her from their
FACEBOOK pages and (according to others) are writing mean things about
my daughter on their “wall.” What is going
on?
Adolescence and cliques: they as old as time. Whether you were popular
or an outcast, or somewhere in between, most adults can remember the
pain and anxiety they experienced while navigating the social challenges
of adolescence.
The bad news is that the adolescent social climate today isn’t
much better. In fact, some researchers who study the social world of
teens say it’s even more challenging today because of pop culture
that glorifies violence and “meanness,” and computer technology
that adds a new arena for teens to gossip, tease, bully and spread rumors
about other teens.
The good news is that awareness of the serious problems facing teens
in their social “jungle” is growing and
more steps are being taken by schools to address it. Right now, however,
the best resource a teen has for managing such challenges is his or her
parent.
For this reason, parents must learn all that they can about ‘what
to do,’ ‘what not to do’ and ‘what to avoid.’ For
adoptive parents, who are already concerned about how adoption impacts
their child’s self-esteem and peer relationships, getting up-to-speed
on cyber socializing is no small challenge.
The 2005 movie, Mean Girls was based on Rosalind Wiseman’s
best-selling book, Queen Bees and WannaBees. Ms. Wiseman and
other teen experts explain the enormous vulnerability that the 10-15
year old set feels as they move to separate and become more independent
from parents.
In the process of mastering separation, peers become increasingly important
during these years. Peer relationships offer that needed sense of belonging
and help to offset the loneliness that comes with the journey toward
adulthood. Peers naturally are attracted to friends of like minds, values,
interests and form friendship groups. A clique, however, is different
because the dynamics of power come into play: someone is the leader (Queen
Bee) who decides who’s in and who’s out. The group doesn’t
just enjoy each other’s company, it thrives on competition. Competition
spurs the jealousy and insecurity that combust and trigger the infliction
of hurt and cruelty on others.
While Ms. Wiseman addresses this issue with girls, ask any boy in this
same age group and you will find that they are equally impacted. The
Columbine massacre was conducted by two social misfits/outcasts. And,
sadly, sexual harassment occurs for both genders.
In their book, Cliques, authors Charlene Giannetti and Margaret
Sagarese explain that it isn’t just the children who are isolated
(those who have no friends) who become victims of bullying. Popular children
can also experience and enormous amount of anxiety over losing their
status. The “wannabes,” those who are sometimes in and sometimes
out, sacrifice real friendships for the possibility of inclusion in their
desired group. What is so alarming is just how often our teens suffer
in silence, unbeknownst to their unsuspecting parents.
The consequences of these social challenges can result in anxiety, depression,
impaired academic performance, physical ailments, school refusal, drugs,
alcohol, sexual promiscuity, and suicide. Because adopted teens have
an extra layer of emotional challenges around identity, loss and grief
related to birth parents, separation from parents, they may be especially
vulnerable to experiences involving rejection and loss.
For example, Joan (15-years-old) was the only girl on her Lacrosse
team not invited to a team member’s birthday party. Certainly,
this would hurt any teens feelings, but for Joan (and her mother), it
was excruciating. Feelings of ‘being different’ as a result
of being adopted can surface with teenagers and can cause many adopted
teens up to wonder if being adopted has something to do with their social
acceptance or lack thereof.
Michelle, an African American now 25 puts it this way, “My friends
were mostly Caucasian. When we turned 13, they became boy crazy. I was
one of only two teens of color in my school. The boys were not interested
in me. One by one, I lost those friends. I was devastated. Fortunately,
I was able to befriend other girls who were not popular either and we
helped each other through high school. They are still in my life today.”
While trying to figure out who they are (identity formation), many transracially
adopted teens naturally want to connect with others of their race/culture.
Sara, 15, adopted from Korea, sat everyday in the cafeteria near a group
of other Korean girls who pretended she didn’t exist. One day she
brought Korean foods for lunch and offered to share them with the girls.
This broke the ice. “I tried to be part of their clique,
but they wouldn’t let me in,” she says. “We all
looked alike, but that was as far as our similarities went. It’s
better now, but I still have to work hard to be accepted.”
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C.A.S.E. Connections: Meet Valerie Kunsman
Connecting to families and professionals is important to us. Because so
many readers have asked, each month, we want to introduce you to the
many adoption-sensitive experts that make C.A.S.E. such an amazing
national resource:
Since 1998, Valerie Kunsman, MSW has worn just about
every hat there is to wear at The Center for Adoption Support and Education:
From recruiting and hiring departmental staff and managing our complex HR-related
functions, to writing and managing grant proposals and developing
training programs for children, teens and parents, to overseeing
(from start-to-finish) thirteen Annual Kids Adoption Network Carnivals
and X Annual Golf Benefit tournaments..Aways busy, we don't
know what we'd do without her!
When asked about the meaning of her connections to
C.A.S.E. families, Valerie was happy to share:
Why I love working at CASE
We offer a place where children can be themselves - a place
to let go of their fear, their anger, their sadness, their guilt.
A place to celebrate their joy, excitement and wonder!
The most powerful moment I've experienced at C.A.S.E.
I was facilitating a group of kids who were aging out
of the foster care system, as they had not been adopted. During
one of the sessions a teen asked another girl in the group why
she was wearing a "Candy Land" shirt that was a little
too small for her. She responded that no one had allowed her
to have a childhood, so she was giving herself a childhood by
buying things that, as a child, she should have had.
What children who were adopted have taught me
RESILIENCE. According to the dictionary, one definition of resilience
is “property of a material to absorb energy when it is deformed
elastically and then, upon unloading to have this energy, recovered.” I
see this daily as a child completes his homework, even though he is
thinking about his birth mother’s addiction or when a child adopted
from foster care excels in the drama club, even though – just
last year – she lived with her eight brothers and sisters and
now only sees them once a month – the ability to more forward,
to succeed and recover.
What I hope to impart to the children I work with
That they have found the right place here – and that they are valued.
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