Cheekbones (part 2)

(Sorry there was such a delay in posting the follow up to the last post.  Summer got in the way.)

Over 4th of July, we were at my mom’s house and I saw M reading that book.  The book was from a box of antique books my grandma had given my mom.  I nudged Mr. A and we both rolled our eyes when we saw the cover, but we didn’t bother to stop M from reading it, since she was already more than half way through.

Once M said that her views on cheekbones came from that book, I expected the worst, but I hadn’t read the book so I didn’t know exactly what it said.*  I was convinced that M was now harboring self-hatred because of the 1950s racism in that  stupid book.

“Well, that book was written a long time ago.” I said as I was struggling to figure out how to handle this conversation, “Back in those days, some people thought that only white people could be attractive.  They thought white people were better than people with ancestors from other places, so sometimes they might have said bad things about the way they look.  But now we know that is silly, right? We know people with ancestors from anywhere can be beautiful.”

M looked thoughtful.

“Ooooh,” she said, “So that is why people think I am so pretty?  Because I look so WHITE??”

Doh.

So, uh, that was not exactly the direction I was hoping our conversation was headed.

The first thing that popped into my head was ‘No, actually the reason people think you are so pretty is because our culture tends to fetishize mixed-race people.’  But that topic was a even more complicated than the one I was already mangling.

The second thing that popped into my head was ‘Well, at least she still has a positive self image, even though it is for a screwy reason. The book obviously didn’t totally ruin her self esteem.’

While I was thinking those things, M just waited for my answer.

“Uh, M, I know that you think you look white right now, but really, you look just like someone should look if they have ancestors from both Asia and Europe.  I know people tell you you are pretty, but that is just because they like the way you look.  I don’t know if what they think has anything to do with looking white or not.   We know other people who are pretty who don’t have any European ancestors at all like  _____ and ____ and ______, right? Things are very different now than they were 60 years ago when that book was published and they are still changing now.”

From there, I managed to clumsily steer the conversation to the civil rights movement, segregation, interracial marriages and race relations.  It was not a coherent conversation and it was filled with dumb metaphors that M didn’t really seem to grasp.  The whole time I was just wishing we could get to the Dairy Queen and get our ice cream so M would be distracted and drop the subject.

To be clear, this conversation was not well-packaged for an after school special.  It was a mess.

During our conversation, I kept telling her “Well, it is complicated,”   and “I am going to have to think about that question” and “Maybe we can get a book from the library so we can learn more about it.”

That’s life, you know?  I wasn’t expecting that conversation.  I struggled with it.  I am embarrassed that I (of all people!) didn’t handle it better.

It is OK.  We have talked about race in smaller, more manageable chunks in the few days since the original conversation.   Now I know M is noticing and trying to figure things out.  She is starting to think of herself and where she fits in the world.  And even though I bungled that conversation, I will have many opportunities to do better.

We will just keep talking until we both figure it out.

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*I read the book this week and was quite relieved that it was really not too offensive, despite the weird cover.  The main Bad Guy had “high cheekbones and a scar over his eye” and the description was repeated over and over, but there wasn’t much more too it.  How M extrapolated that description into “ugly”, I don’t know.

Cheekbones (Part 1)

It started innocently enough:  As we were walking through the Chinese grocery yesterday, M said, “You and I are the only people here with brown hair!  I am so embarrassed!”

Her comment came out of the blue, so I was a bit surprised.  I pointed out several other people at the store with brown hair and finished up our shopping.  Later, M and I went for a walk and I decided I needed to do a little more investigation into what she was feeling.

As we talked, it became clear that M identifies her own appearance as white.  (Note: I think there is a dichotomy between how she views her appearance and and her knowledge of her ancestry.  She knows she is half-Chinese and knows that her family is half Chinese.)  I think she understands that most other people also identify her as White.

While it is true that she appears white to the casual observer, I thought we needed to talk a bit about how it works to be biracial.  I said something along the lines of “Yes, it is true that most people probably overlook the parts of your appearance that come from your Asian ancestry, but they are still parts of how you look.  You look exactly like someone who has ancestors from both Europe and Asia should look.  You have a bit of both if you know where to look.”

We talked a little bit about her hair and her nose and how those probably figure heavily into how people categorize her racially, but then we talked about the features of her face that are more Asian in appearance.  We talked about her eyes, which are shaped just like Mr. A’s, though they are big like mine.

“Are my eyes big because of my ancestors  from Europe?” she asked.

I thought hard before I answered that one. “Well, your eyes are big because MY eyes are big.  So are [my sister]‘s and Nana’s (my mom) and all Nana’s sisters.  In our family, some people have big eyes, but it isn’t because they are European.  There are lots of Europeans who have small eyes too.  There are also Asians who have big eyes and some have small eyes.”

M looked thoughtful, like she wasn’t entirely sure she believed me.  Then I said, “When I look at your face, I can see that your cheekbones also look a little Asian.”

At that comment, M’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked decidedly unhappy.  “Oh NO!” She said, “Are you saying I have HIGH CHEEKBONES?  High Cheekbones are BAD and UGLY!”

As far as I can remember, we have never once talked about cheekbones before.  I was shocked that M had any reference point for cheekbones at all.  “What?  Where did you hear about high cheekbones?” I asked, trying to buy myself some time.

“From the Goldfish Mystery” she said.

The Goldfish Mystery is a book she read at my mom’s house. Click the link there to see why I was worried.

………………more later.  We have Chinese lessons now.

little of this and that

Since I can’t rustle up the motivation for a big post, here are several mini-postlets:

  • I find it hard to believe that M has only been out of school for about a month.  This month has felt really, really looooong.   I have also discovered that my children devour activities like candy.    We are doing our best to keep busy: we made strawberry jam, went swimming at my parents’ house, went to the park, baked cookies, made a million playdates, rode bikes and scooters, visited a children’s museum, visited a historic ship, went to the zoo, and taught M to cook a simple dinner.  Mostly, we are not bored and we are always trying to scrounge up new things to do.  I am going to be so exhausted by the time school starts, I might nap until Christmas.
  • L and M are both sprouting up like weeds this summer.  M is beginning to lose her little girl look.  She is all gangly and knobby.  Sometimes she looks at me and I can see her future teenage face.  L isn’t huge, but she is getting bigger too.   We are in the last days of her toddlerdom and I can fast see a preschooler (albeit a somewhat short one) emerging as the last shreds of her babyness melt away.
  • Our second hand-me-down washing machine and third free dryer conveniently gave up the ghost practically simultaneously.    That is when I discovered that there is WAY too much information about washing machines out there and the features they offer are just too much.  Do people really need to pay an extra $600 for a STEAM function?  For fifty years, we have been washing our clothes without it and I never once thought “Huh, if only I could steam clean my clothes, life would be better.”   I finally chose my W/D from a scratch and dent store and walked away annoyed I had to spend so much money to wash our clothes, which are probably not even worth what we paid for those machines.
  • My mom randomly mentioned she wanted to buy a gun a few weeks ago.  I am hugely anti-gun, so this created a bit of tension as I envisioned having to stop using her house for free babysitting.  Upon further questioning, it turns out my mom has convinced herself that SOMETHING BAD is going to happen to the power grid and all rules of civilization will evaporate over night.  She doesn’t even want the gun to protect herself, she is afraid that she may need it to hunt for food.   The crazy of this scenario is just ridiculous.  I pointed out that our entire city lost power for a week last year without mayhem.  People just grilled their melting freezer meat and spent a lot of time hanging out in their yards with neighbors.  Besides, if we ever get to the point of starvation where I would need to hunt, I would just head on up to Canada.  There is Socialism up there, dontcha know, and I bet our Canadian brothers and sisters wouldn’t let us starve.  Even if there were no gas stations (the HORROR!), I figure I could walk there in less than a month, eh?  Usually, this kind of crazy comes from the inlaws, but it seems that even in my own family a little crazy can be found.

That is about all I can think of right now.  Onward and upward!