Adam's Soapbox

     This blog has been a number of things since we started it last September. In the last 43 weeks, we’ve shared some pretty great experiences with all of you. From picking an agency to preparing for a home study, we’ve enjoyed being able to tell all of you about it. But this blog has been some other things too. We’ve discussed things like taking our kids to IU games, the dogs knocking down the Christmas tree, and my agony over which little NBA jersey I’ll buy for my child first (I’m thinking a Victor Oladipo jersey). But today’s entry is something different. I’ll apologize in advance, but this is my soapbox moment.

     I got angry the other day. That’s not totally uneventful though. I mean, sometimes I get angry in traffic, at work, at the dogs, you name it (although never at my wonderful wife who is perfect in every way and who also edits this blog). But I suppose that happens to all of us at times. But this wasn’t one of those little angry moments that you get over in a minute or two, this was one of those visceral angry things that sticks with you and keeps you from sleeping at night.

    Here’s the thing: I think racism is stupid. I’ve honestly never understood it. I mean, if you want to hate me, that’s fine, I’m sure I’ve given you a reason somewhere along the way, but hating someone or judging them for something they have no control over, like the color of their skin is ridiculous to me. I just don’t get it. But late Friday night I stumbled into a facebook conversation that had evolved from reasonable discussion to borderline hate speech. I read the first few comments on the page, and everything was fine until I read a comment that basically said that all “they” (meaning African-Americans) do is complain about slavery and look for handouts from everyone instead of earning what they get like everyone else does.

     Now I make it a policy not to argue with stupid people, but my anger got to me for a few minutes, and in that time I thought of a hundred different things I wanted to say back to him (none of them repeatable). But I followed Ashley’s advice to stay calm before I replied with anything. I tried to reply calmly and respectfully, but the thought that kept going through my mind was, “He’s talking about my kid.”

     Way back when we first began our adoption application, we had to answer the big question about what racial makeup we were willing to accept in our adoption. While race was never a big deal to us, a lot of the research said that the hardest children to get placed were African-American boys. Our immediate reaction was that, if that’s who needs to be adopted, that’s what we want. We wanted to help where help was needed and if African-American boys are the demographic that needs the most help, then that’s what we want. So maybe that’s why what this guy had to say got to me so much. The idea that this guy, who was on my friends list up until that point, would make a generalization about my child (even though he isn’t born yet) had me shaking with anger. My kid is going to have a hard enough life just dealing with us as his parents, he doesn’t need stupid people adding to it.

      One thing that stuck with me though, is the fact that he was so comfortable generalizing his fellow citizens in the first place. But a lot of us have had trouble with that. We generalize people with different political opinions, religions, even regions of the country by what we assume they are like. But how often do we take the time to talk to people who have an opinion that differs from ours? Maybe what I wrote tonight will offend you or cause you to make some broad generalization about me, but if it does, I’d much rather you talk to me and explain why you disagree. We can discuss it. Great things happen when intelligent people are willing to engage in discussion, even when they disagree.

    The only thing I know about my child is that there’s a pretty good chance that he’s not going to look anything like me. In fact, if he did, I’d probably be a little concerned. But I know that no matter if my child is white, black, Asian, Hispanic, or whatever, it won’t matter to me for one second, because he’ll be my child and we’ll be a family. I wonder what would happen if we all treated each other that way.