I saw Jada Pinkett Smith’s latest Red Table topic talk today with Kristin Davis from Sex and the City – I just love both these shows. The title ‘Should White People Adopt Black Kids?‘ did intrigue me as it’s something that I’ve questioned myself over the years. As a black women and facilitator for the Gateway Women Reignite weekend workshops I have come across black couples who have been rejected from being adoptive parents so I do get angry when I hear that (or even see) white women have adopted black children. Ok yes I get the ‘its about love’ aspect of this argument but is love enough when the black child is being subjected to racism and the white parent can’t help them, or the white parent doesn’t get it so plays it down because their white privilege is preventing them from truing seeing what is right in front of them.
I saw Jada Pinkett Smith’s latest Red Table topic talk
today with Kristin Davis from Sex and the City – I just love both these shows.
The title ‘Should White People Adopt Black Kids?’
did intrigue me as it’s something that I’ve questioned over the years.
As a black women and facilitator for the Gateway Women
Reignite weekend workshops I have come across black women/ couples who have
been rejected from being adoptive parents so I do get annoyed when I hear that
(or even see) a white woman (or couple) have adopted a black child. Ok yes I
get the ‘its about love’ aspect of this argument but is love enough? What
happens when the black child is being subjected to racism and the white parent
can’t help them, or the white parent doesn’t get it so plays it (the racism)
down because their white privilege is preventing them from truly seeing what is
right in front of them.
I guess my question is do white people really
understand the complexities of bringing up a black child? Do they get what is
involved? Will they disregard that childs’ culture?
Listening to the interview it was good to hear Kristin
say that as a white person she doesn’t understand what a black child culturally
needs or experiences. White people can only look into our lives (as black
people) but their white privilege can (at times) prevent them from seeing the
reality of that child is experience. White privilege can make people say “we
don’t see colour” which can be such an undermining statement in itself. For me
being black is part of my beauty that is disregarded if you chose to not see me
for who I am. White privilege can silence my experience.
This is a hot topic that has many layers and after listening to the Red Table conversation I realised there is a layer to this that I had not experienced before. One of my concerns is that the black children being adopted will, at some point, loose their identify because they are being or have been brought up in an all white environment. From the conversation I now realise that there are white people who see that it’s not just about love (although it’s the start) it’s about embracing all who that child is and knowing their own (cultural) limitations leading them to putting in place the support systems for their black children to also know who they are too.
I was talking to a friend about God and religion (as you do), pretty much
telling her that I don’t believe that God plays chess. I don’t believe that God
picks and chooses who gets what blessings and when just because that person
prayed for it or because they are ‘more favoured’ than the next person. Nor do
I believe that God withholds blessings because that person didn’t deserve it or
it wasn’t the right time for them.
After leaving the charismatic church that I went to for over 10 years, where
I was pretty much taught these lessons, after being so hurt and confused (on so
many levels) by the process, it left me with a lot of questions. I was left
asking ‘why were other people more blessed than me when I was praying to?’ ‘why
didn’t I deserve to hear form God like they did?’ after all I was doing what I
was supposed to be doing (by their rules), I prayed, I tithed, I used the
approved language, I had faith…. I sadly believed that God didn’t hear my
prayers, that He didn’t see my heart and that I wasn’t good enough.
I guess that the only way I could survive that hurt was to redefine who God
was and what God meant to me. Amongst other things I decided that God wasn’t
vengeful and that He wouldn’t punish me for operating in the capacity that He
created me to be able to operate in – He created me with a mind, with the
ability to think and make choices – therefore could I really be wrong (for my
actions) in His eyes especially if my intentions were honourable???
I decided that He created us (humans) in all our glory giving us one of
many simple rules… ‘You reap what you sow’.
For me this means that there are consequences for everything we do, every decision we make. From experience the concept of a consequence always seemed to be a negative thing, something bad that would occur from a bad decision for example. I am not sure why people chose to only see a consequence as only being ‘bad’ but I realised that any outcome/ consequence to our decisions can be both positive or negative why not let it be what it is and find my learning in that experience. This for me became a kinder way of navigating my way through life. I went from feeling ‘not good enough’ to knowing that I am good enough because He created it to be so. Simple put ‘we reap what we sow’ or ‘as you sow so shall you reap’.
Anyway during the conversation my friend asked me ‘So is it my fault that I
didn’t get a husband then?’. We didn’t get to finish the conversation but I have
been thinking about her question for some time now so thought that I would attempt
to answer it here…
Thinking about my own dating life that resulted in my marriage I questioned what it means to have a husband. I looked up the word husband (via google), being the curious person that I am, and came across the English dictionary’s definition – Late Old English (in the senses ‘male head of a household’ and ‘manager, steward’), from Old Norse húsbóndi ‘master of a house’, from hús ‘house’ + bóndi ‘occupier and tiller of the soil’. The original sense of the verb was ‘till, cultivate’. Ok I am none the wisher here so will continue with my own train of thought around this. I do find it difficult to get away from the idea that marriage became a societal expectation, which in some ways is about control. As beautiful and fulfilling as the experience is who can say that others who didn’t get married have not experienced or do not have the same relationship as a married couple. I have come across a number of people who have had relations that have lasted longer than some marriages and in many ways have been more fulfilling. So why should that not mean anything just because they did not sign a piece of paper. Why is my experience as a married woman more valued than the woman who had a beautiful, meaningful relationship in the absence of vows in front of God being witnessed by others?
I have come to this point
in life, mainly because of the grief work I’ve been doing as a result of my
childlessness, where instead of focusing on the negative experiences and the
sadness around them (which can really be a source of learning and growth), I am
choosing to let a situation be what it is, honour it and hold onto the good
memories. Just because I got married I do not see myself as more than someone
who didn’t especially where that someone has experienced love and all the joy
that came with it. In that moment (no matter how long it lasted) they had the
commitment of their significant other, which may have lasted for a short time
or may have lasted for longer – show me a marriage that hasn’t followed this
So in the vein of ‘we reap what we sow’ we’ve all had a committed partner at some point in our lives and will have that again it, these relationships flourish depending on what we sow into it. I spent too long rejecting a perspective partner because he didn’t come in the package that I believed that he should come in (based on the messages I received from the world I lived in over the years). All relationships serve a purpose and some will last longer than others. I read once that not everyone has a ticket to ride your train so now I want to be open to what life has to offer knowing that I can make the choose to stay or go depending on what my heart leads me to do and to take all the good memories along with me. So to answer my friends questions No it is not your fault that you don’t have a husband, all it takes is a shift to be reminded that you have already experienced a husband, he served his purpose for that time. You are now in the process of preparing (because or your growth) for a new relationship that will better suit the woman you have grown into.
Although my parents did wish that I was darker (more representative of their skin tones) and actively encouraged me to sit in the garden when the sun was out, I do remember hearing (from other sources) that I would go far and had a sense that my complexion would afford me certain privileges that I may not have otherwise experience if I was darker. Sitting here today I question if I ever thought that being darker would disadvantage someone in anyway.
If I am being truly honest with myself I’d admit that I used to be more attracted to lighter skin men thinking that they were somehow more beautiful than men of a darker complexion. I guess the messages I got as a child played a big part in unconsciously forming this framework however although my levels of attraction have changed I must say that in some ways I wasn’t that surprised by what I read in the article.
Growing up I was seen as different because, within my immediate family unit I am the lightest in complexion, to the point where others would question my parentage asking if I had one white parent or if someone else was my mother because that women (a family friend) was closer to my complexion that my mother is. My younger brother even asked (when he was about 5 years old) why was I so ‘peachy brown’ when everyone else was dark. So whilst reading the article I found myself dealing with so many mixed feelings around this topic that I decided to send the article to some friends and asked what their experiences were/are around this topic. These are some of the comments from the discussion that ensued…
Disclaimer…. the following comments are from a small group of friends and do not represent the whole of the black community….
“Colourism is a real thing, and I believe it exists in terms of casual dating. But in terms of darker women marrying less than lighter skinned women? No. There can be so many other factors at play. Also, if you believe nobody wants you because you are too dark and then someone says they like dark skin women and your immediate thought is: fetish, you won’t find anyone. People who judge your worth as a wife based on the tone of your skin colour aren’t deep people and not worth your time.”
“What a sad world we live in. 😢😢 I don’t want my 2 beautiful girls to have ANY part of their lives hindered because they are “dark skinned”. 😞😞😞 Right now they don’t see it. I’d love it to stay like that.“
“Growing up in the states in the 80s I can 100% say colourism was there. I was always made to feel I was too dark, especially by black people! 😳 My confidence in my complexion was not there and having a mum with a fairer complexion didn’t help. But moving to the UK I began to embrace it. It was not as bad here. Not sure why….. but if it ends with our own people then there will be more chance of it ending full stop.”
“Colourism is definitely a problem, we may not have started it but our communities have to be the ones to address and end it. I’m glad that people are starting to talk about it. In the US it is worse than in the UK. African American men do predominantly go for the lighter skinned women just like the more petite or “exotic” women are preferred. I believe that darker skinned women are probably less likely to be married here. It’s sad if we look at our celebrities we see it all over. Even in Africa lighter skin is looked at as more beautiful. The question is what would it take to change it?””…. we as black people really do stereotype when it comes to the different shades.”
“Growing up I saw that a lot in Jamaica and even to this day you have black ladies bleaching their skin- as society makes it seem as if it’s more acceptable… I even had members of my family laughing at me when I’d visit Jamaica from London and would sit in the sun because my legs were too pale. When I said I needed my darker complexion back…. I was told I’m crazy”
“It’s gonna take the black community to stop hating themselves enough for others to take note.”
“I’ve seen two siblings who look exactly alike but people think the lighter complexion was more beautiful.”
“I think about the images that the media puts out there. They are the ones who set the standards of beauty. We’re conditioned to think of the European standard of beauty to be the absolute best. I can count on one hand (actually 3) dark skinned models that I know by name.”
“It’s existent even in Africa, at least in my experience. People of a lighter complexion are considered more beautiful and given more opportunities than their darker counterparts. I just wonder how all this started?“
“To be fair he (the white man) may have started it but we have been doing it to ourselves for a really long time“
“I agree that colourism is still there and going strong even with some of the steps forward we have taken. I follow a lot of black and black hair pages on my socials but even then when I see black women like my shade or darker with my type of hair 80% of the time it’s a video of them taming their hair with copious amounts of gel to look smooth and then adding in loose curl extensions to seem like they have the attributes of their lighter skinned counterparts. Even when we have the platform we are still conforming to a “whiter and lighter” beauty standard to an extent. It started with the white man but we are allowing it to be perpetuated which allows others to think its still ok.”
“Yes it started with slavery and I believe that slavery lives on in our genetic memories and the messages that have been passed down from generation to generation. I don’t think that the cycle will break unless we acknowledge this and talk – yes it starts with us being able to discuss that and find solutions for ourselves. ‘It’s gonna take the black community to stop hating themselves enough for others to take note’ “
Reflecting on these comments and having watched a video where black women discuss politics of light and dark skin I was amazed at how much this reminded me of my own past thoughts and experiences. I am aware of the unconscious conditioning that we have experienced as a race and believe that we are (generally) accepted (by white people) because of the parameters that we fit into, whether its the way we speak, how we dress or how we wear our hair making us more acceptable (and safer) in their eyes. I have experienced white men dating black women where, the women were not necessarily of a fairer complexion but they did have a more European look that, to me, represented ‘white-ness’ and acceptance.
Personally I do not think it’s just about how we see ourselves (although important) but about how we are perceived (by white people) and what that then means for us. From my own experience and the research I’m doing (with my work around the WoC experience and infertility) black women are negatively stereotyped. I myself have been treated like I’m ‘the angry black woman in the room‘. In my 20s I was told that I would have been a house slave and that I’d get far because of my colour/ shade. I also suspect that I’m where I am (on the public forum) because of my complexion and the general ‘safeness’ that I represent. I think as a race we (men and women) need to be conscious of the generational messages that has been passed down so that we can break this cycle within our own race. If colourism plays out in our everyday lives (unconsciously or not) how much is it playing out in our personal or professional relationships? I can’t say that darker skinned black women are less likely to get married but I’m painfully aware that black women are low down on the pecking order. Even writing this blog and expressing my feelings in this way I feel like I will soon be labelled/ stereotyped as the ‘militant black woman’ but if I was a white women talking in this way I would be described as passionate about my beliefs… 😖
I am sitting here singing the song ‘I’ve had the time of my life’ from Dirty Dancing, as I reflect on yesterday’s Fertility Fight club. It was an amazing and rewarding experience.
I was so nervous leading up to the day. I was unsure about my speech – ‘am I saying the right thing?’, ‘what will they think about it?’, ‘will they be offended?’…. so many thoughts were running through my head. I was glad that I could practice my speech in front of my Toastmasters group before Saturday because it gave me the opportunity to refine it and settle my nerves.
I then spent Saturday morning, before heading into London, meditating and playing relaxing music and reminding myself that ‘This is me’ – now I’m singing the song from the Greatest Showman. Do you get the feeling that I like musicals???
The moment arrives… I got up on the stage at the Barbican centre – glad that I was first – and told my truth.
As a black woman, talking about black issues, you never know how you’ll be received (by both black and white people) so to hear the responses afterwards was so amazing. I felt so honoured to have been given this opportunity and to have been received in such a positive way. I have no words (just a huge smile) to describe how I am feeling today but these kind words say it all…
For those of you not on FB you can read my talk below…
BLACK GIRLS DO CRY
There was a time when I would have stood before you as
an enslaved woman who had no control over her destiny
My body stolen, never mine, wondering if this is
personal or just business
but I couldn’t speak up, I couldn’t question, I couldn’t
refuse, I could not show you my tears
Enslaved women had;
hopes and dreams STOLEN
their future STOLEN
their choice to have a child STOLEN
the choice when to have a child STOLEN
the choice who to have a child with STOLEN
the chance to nurture that
child, watch them grow up, watch them fulfill their dreams STOLEN
Quite frankly I probably would have welcomed being
childless back then if it meant that I didn’t have to endure the pain of your
control, if it meant that I didn’t have to hide my tears
Afua Hirsch wrote in her book Brit (ish) that
There was no clean break from slavery… Britain’s act
of abolition in 1807 curtailed the supply of new African blood to slave owners
in the Caribbean, worsening conditions for slaves already there. Planters began
to pay overseas a bonus for each female slave they impregnated…
I wonder what value I would have had to my slave owner
as a childless woman?
Today I stand before you, childless, my status being
met with surprise and disbelief
You see white people think that I come from a long
line of strong, sassy, virile, hypersexual exotic women that do not have
apparently ‘we breed like rabbits!’
Black men think that their super sperm will cure my
Black women tell me not to give up hope, to keep
praying, that they will pray for me
They say that its Gods will, God know BEST
While white people call me aggressive and over
Growing up ‘Baby Mamma’s were disrespected, now as a
childless woman I am pitied
But who will see my tears?
I turn to you for help but you do not hear my sorrow, you
don’t seem to understand, for heavens sake you don’t even look like me
If a childless woman have no currency in society then
what about the black childless women?
in black women is rarely discussed or acknowledged as a problem
myths from slavery
perpetuate the stereotype that black women do not have problems conceiving
there are studies that suggest black women may be
almost twice as likely to experience infertility as white women
When black women do seek medical help for fertility issues,
failing to see people who look like us in leaflets, on notice boards, in your
groups can further discourage us from speaking up and pursuing the help that we
so desperately need
For women who look like me
not having children has many layers of trauma that is hard to explain unless
you have the time to listen
My voice is a voice that is
My history reminds me of
how silenced I’ve became…
when you asked me if I’d ever considered being a shop-keeper as a
if I could have less plaits in my hair,
when you dismissed my concerns that ‘that was racist’ as being too
hard to prove,
when you thought that I was aggressive in that meeting just
because I dared to voice my opinion
When are you going to stop stereotyping
me so that I can speak
When are you going to stop
letting your colour-blindness
and white privilege stop me from being heard
If you don’t
see my colour you don’t see my pain,
If you don’t see my colour you don’t see my challenges
or the barriers I face
If you don’t see my colour when are you going to see
convinced myself to leave my house that evening because I really wanted to hear
Jody speak. I have been silent for so long now and really want to start dealing
with the grief of my childlessness.
I got into my car and
drove to the venue. When I eventually got out of my car and walked to the room,
I looked through the window then turned around and went home because no-one in
that room looked like me“
This is a story I heard from a black woman grateful
that she could finally talk to someone who would understand, someone who looked
For too long WoC have been silenced, through
stereotyping and a lack of representation in the profession that is meant to
In her book ‘Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People
about Race’ Reni Eddo-Lodge wrote that
“…If you don’t even want to see my colour and
acknowledge my race how can we talk about the issues I face, how can you
possible start to understand…”
Reni goes on to say “… “White privilege is
a manipulating, suffocating blanket of power… bullying you into not speaking
up… it scares you into silencing yourself…” “Race is essential to
changing the system”
I have learnt to be careful about my battles but at
the risk of being labeled the angry black women my fertility journey is one
that I have had to fight
In her article for the Leadership Academy Morvia
Gorden mentions that “her belief is that black people have inherited
internalised oppression from 400 years of slavery as we’ve been taught that
white people are better than us
Even though no living white person is responsible for
slavery, BAME people still bears the scars if it…”
I am not here to play the blame game, I simply want
you to understand my tears
I want you to understand that there
are women like me who are often crying from what we often feel is a lack of
concern or awareness of our experience as descendants of enslaved women
Black Girls Do Cry
We cry because we feel that we’ve lost our
choices and that we do not have a voice
We want to be see, we want to be heard
We want you to stop stereotyping us and
see us for who we are
We want you to remove your
colour-blindness and see our difference
We want you to engage with us in an honest
and non-defensive way
We want to have an equal place and better
services for childless WoC
Yes there is more to life than children
and maybe someday I can tell you about it
“Infertility Doesn’t Discriminate’, So Why Are Women Of Colour Suffering In Silence?”
After all this time I am still surprised and pleased when someone contacts me to talk because they heard an interview I’d done or because they want to interview me for a particular article. So it was a pleasure to receive Rachel Moss’s email asking if I would be interviewed for an article that she was writing for the Huffington Post. The article is about how infertility affects women of colour and is hooked to Fertility Fest at the Barbican, which I am talking at today – Fertility Fight club. So as I am preparing myself to head to the Barbican I thought that I’d take a moment to reflect and share this wonderful article by Rachel….
I listened to BBC Radio 4s podcast ‘Queenie’ last weekend. Queenie is the debut novel by Candice Carty-Williams, a darkly comic and unflinchingly raw depiction of a young woman trying to navigate her way in the world.
I came across this purely by chance and found it throughly enjoyable and captivating. Whilst it does have that entertainment value what really struck me was the stereotyping (of Queenie a young black women trying to understand her identify) from the white men she encounters, her identity as a young black women within her own family (which plays out with the relationship she has with her parents, grandparents and friends) and within the relationships within her social circles.
For me Queenie shows the many complex unspoken layers that black women face on a daily basis, most of which are either unconscious or unspoken but all of which are very real. But that’s just my opinion have a listen and let me know what you think….