The Time My Kid Asked To Marry A White Guy

My 5 year old, biracial daughter asked if she could marry a white guy earlier this week, further proving to me that raising multiracial children is a unique experience worthy of acknowledgment. Multiracial motherhood has its own facets of parenting, I think, because my experiences as a Latina won’t be solely her experiences as a mixed, black Latina. But perhaps that’s everyone? Have you experienced something like this?

Anyway, here’s how the conversation went down:

Me: quietly and diligently doing daughter’s hair (this is how our mixed curly hair routine, in case you’re wondering) as we prepare to spend the afternoon at Disneyland*

*Interesting to note. While I love Disney and all its magic, there is a severe lack of diversity in skin color and cultures at the park, specifically. I work hard to balance this in raising multiracial children. Disney does fantasy like no other, and I wouldn’t deny my kids (or myself!) from those joys, but I’m not leaving it to Disney to raise my mixed daughter to feel beautiful, wholesome and perfect the way she is. Then there’s the whole woefully, inept princess dogma… but again, parenting in a verb. Right now, my parenting objective is not to pit the two sides – raising a strong women of color vs. what society and her peers think is “cool” (like Cinderella and Barbie) –  against each other. I want both experiences to be accessible for my girl and am balancing those ends constantly.

A: Mama, when I get big, can I marry a white guy?

Me: Married!? Why do you want to get married? You’re 5, baby… you’ve got a long time before you should think about getting married.

A: But Mama, you and Daddy are married. And I don’t want to marry my brother. So can I marry a white guy?

Me: still shocked my parenting as gotten here so fast! Wasn’t she just breastfeeding and learning to talk?

A: sensing my hesitation Because we don’t match, Mama.

Me: Do me and Daddy match?

A: Noooooo

Me: Baby, you don’t have to match to fall in love and get married. Daddy and I don’t match and he’s the most wonderful Daddy I could pick for you and your brother. But what have I told you about getting married and becoming a woman like mama?

A: grinning and pulling out her little fingers to demonstrate. She loves showing me how smart she feels. First I go to college. Then I travel the world and start a good job. Then I meet a good boy…. and THEN I get married.*

*This is what we do to set age appropriate, life expectations on our child. I believe strongly that if you fail to purposefully place expectations on them, the world will do so… or you’ll do so unknowingly. The words I use are simple to define and emphasize a value set. As she matures, “college” can evolve to trade school, an apprenticeship, whatever that sets the values of hard work, strong work ethic and delayed gratification. I realize that college isn’t for everyone, and it might not be for my kids, but setting long term goals and working hard for them are life skills everyone needs to succeed.

Likewise, with asking her to travel, I’m placing a value on experiences. Why do little girls have to worry about rushing to get married or partner up? I know I did. Is this a Latino thing? Traveling is a parenting tool for mixed kids (all kids, really) to expand their worldviews and, ultimately, personal identity. I want her to know herself as much as possible before choosing a partner to compliment her life. It also delays the societal timeline of life expectations that many women feel. If you’re busy discovering the world’s wonders, you’re less consumed with other stuff.

Also for the sake of time, she uses her little fingers to mark “meet a good boy”. The whole “good boy” thing happened on accident (it’s such a hard term to break for me!), but every time this conversation comes up I use it as an opportunity to define what a “good boy” is and how that relationship looks and feels (i.e. lack of abusive/negative behaviors).  Luckily for my kids, their father is a stellar example. We haven’t had a fairy-tale marriage, but I would be thrilled if my daughter married someone like her father. Anyway, the idea to mark the “meeting” and “getting to know” phase is meant to value the time needed to make an educated decision on marriage. Because, hello! You don’t just live happily ever after…

Me: Wow baby, you really listen to mama! When you’re a big girl that can work and take care of herself, you can decide who you like best to marry. I know you’ll make a great choice! But I really hope they like mommy and daddy, too.

A: grins and continues to play with her dolls as I do her hair They will, mama.

Our Multiracial Family Legacy

My sweet baby girl,

When you read this post, you’ll be much older and I want to take the opportunity to tell you the beginnings of my thoughts on race and marriage that I didn’t during this conversation when you were 5. The men I dated before your dad were mostly white. I had one boyfriend through high school and when that relationship dissolved in college, I was devastated. It took me years to recover; years that I regret not dedicating to personal growth. Every guy I dated was a good person; I’ve never been beaten or abused by the hands of a partner. White, black or in between, this should be the MINIMUM of your expectations.

But I also never felt whole with these guys. Being a bicultural Latina, I felt fragmented in these relationships because they didn’t care or understand what our culture and language meant to my family. With the exception of one white guy that loved our Cuban culture, I even felt like they were ashamed of me and my Spanish speaking family. I was “American enough” to hang out, but “too Hispanic” to marry. Or “too curvy” or “too curly”, coming just short of “too brown”. One guy that I dated FOR THREE YEARS (what a waste) even refused to meet my Hispanic family… he had no problem meeting my white, step-family, though. And I accepted this! That experience killed my insides, but I allowed it.

By the time I met your dad, I was over it. I excused no parts of myself. Not my skin; not my curves or my hair, and certainly not by Cuban-craziness and Spanish speaking family. And guess what happened? HE LOVED ME! And not “anyway”, but “because”.

Your dad loves me because of who I am, not despite it. And I love your dad, in part, because he’s African American and comes from a family whose culture resembles my own. I felt connected to him in a way I had never felt connected to another man.

So, yes! Marry a white guy. Marry an Asian guy or an Indian guy. Just marry someone who embraces all parts of you and would never think of limiting that definition, while also understanding that surviving an interracial marriage is not just about you and  your partner. There are generalized value-sets in every culture that should not be ignored. But that’s a whole other conversation that can wait until you’re 6, at least!

I love you, baby girl….

Su Mama