Brown skin: Black boy

I had lunch with Canaan at his school today. He greeted me and the giant cookie I brought with a big grin, then I sat down on the circular stool attached to the long rectangular table that he had saved for me. Immediately two cute freckle faced girls sitting in their respective circular stools across the table asked in unison "Are you Canaan's mom?"

I answered "Yes, I am" then quickly read their reaction and paused before asking,  "Are you surprised to know that I am his mom?"

They both grinned and nodded together.

"Is it because we look different from each other?"

Again, with the twin nodding and grinning.

I tried to engage Canaan at this point and include him in our banter because enough "adoption experts" have warned me that this is his story to tell.

Except that honestly I don't really believe that. I mean I believe that it is his life and his history,  but I also know that he is learning to interpret that life and history based on how he hears Cory and I talk about it.

"Canaan," I asked in front of the girls, "is there something different about us?'

He replied, "Yep. You are a girl and I am a boy."

"Anything else different?"

He thought a bit before he said, "I have curly hair and you have straight hair."

Clearly this was going nowhere as he was unphased by any of our other distinctive qualities.

So I asked the cute red-headed girl across from me, "Is there anything else that's different about us that makes you surprised I am his mom?'

She kinda coyly grinned like she wasn't sure she was supposed to say it out loud. I tried to give her a knowing smirk back and that's when she answered, "He has kinda-brown-kinda-light skin and you just have light skin."

Nailed it.

What ensued was a precious and innocent conversation about adoption. Everyone went around the table and took turns talking about what color skin they had and what color their mom's tummy was that they grew in. Granted I know my matching Mommy tummy/Baby skin color is not a full proof scientific explanation, but the four year olds certainly got it.

I explained that not all kids who are adopted are from orphanages as the pigtailed girl had suggested and followed that truth with a few funny stories about baby Canaan.  I listened to their surprise at the thought of Canaan once being called Jason,  while my boy sat next to me soaking up all the attention with pride.

It was such a hallmark moment, just dripping with ooey gooey childhood innocence. I looked all around the elementary cafeteria and could see no awareness of truths like "white flight,"  "minorities," or  "race riots."

I wish I could freeze that innocence. I wish I could freeze it for Canaan and freeze it for his friends. Because as the years roll by he will learn that he's not just a boy with brown skin that grew inside a brown tummy.  Instead he will know (and his friends will know) that he is black boy that will grow into a black man.  A black man is not the same thing as a man with brown skin.

And this white Momma is still trying to figure out how to navigate and narrate that.

But keep listening to the right voices, my sweet boy, because I am determined to teach you how to tell your story, you whole story, exactly how you learned to tell it today... with pride.