Last weekend Bubba and I flew 1,500 miles so I could introduce him to my grandmother.
Back in 2005, when I told her we were planning to adopt transracially, she responded this way: You’re doing WHAT? You’re adopting a WHAT?” And then it was downhill from there. When I called her a few weeks before Bubba was born to tell her that he was coming and he might be our son, her reaction was so strong I thought it might really be the end of our relationship.
But it wasn’t. When he was born we got a big check with no card. Eventually she started asking about him when we talked. And at some point she proposed that we all meet at my parent’s house. But travelling is hard for her – she’s 91 – and she kept talking about how hard it would be to babyproof her apartment. Her house is 3 rooms: I think babyproofing was a red herring. She was scared to death to meet her biracial great-grandson.
Ultimately my parents and I decided that we would all go together. My parents would show up early to babyproof and, more importantly, we would just make our reservations and not tell her until the last minute that we were coming. We were nervous about telling her, but when we did she was thrilled.
And she was a CHAMPION this weekend. She told my dad before we got there that she knew how she wanted to react but wasn’t sure if she could do it. But when she met Bubba she was beside herself. She could. not. stop. gushing about him. He’s so cute! He’s so smart! He understands you so well! He sings! He dances! He eats with a fork! At the end of the first day she kissed him goodnight and told him she loved him.
She lives in a senior independent living facility, so on Sunday we had to talk around and meet all of her friends in the dining room, at the pool, in the card room, and so on. I can’t count on two hands the number of people who pulled out photos of their white grandsons at their weddings to black women, or who told me about their lesbian granddaughters who were pregnant through artificial insemination. What a trip.
She told me two interesting things over the weekend: She felt she was able to move on this and be open to having Bubba in her family because our family gave her space and didn’t judge her. I’m glad she felt that way because in all honesty I thought we were all judging her at every step. I thought my parents and my uncles might stop speaking to her at various points. But she didn’t feel judged, so okay.
She also told me that “as horrible as it sounds,” it helped that his skin is pretty light. Huh. It makes me cringe to hear it, but I think she just may be the most honest of the bunch. I can’t imagine that no one else in either of our families has ever thought that, but all of them are too politically left-leaning (and sensitive to our feelings) to actually say it. She never has pulled her punches, so I think I’m okay that she said it because she owned it and she really has already exceeded all my expectations.
I’m not done pushing her but I’m still feeling pretty jaw-on-the-floor awed by how well it went.
That’s wonderful. And lucky for Bubba to have a great grandma!
I have a great-aunt in her 90s who I hope Jo gets to meet (she lives in the same state as your parents, which is none too close) who has surprised me every step of the way. She was delighted by my “marriage” to Co, excited about Jo. One of her grandsons married a Chinese woman (it didn’t hurt that the woman converted to Judaism) and the couple has two beautiful little girls. My great-aunt’s comment was that our family’s gene pool could use some variety. True that!!
When my parents adopted transracially my great grandma didn’t exactly pitch a fit but she was mystified. Two stories stand out in my mind. At her first visit with our family, she kept saying “Look at that cute little n___” until my mom sat down next to her and said “We don’t say that word in our house.” And like a child, my great grandma said “You don’t?” I guess in her childhood it was an OK word and that was where her head was at. Then she would send cards to us on our birthdays with our names on them, except for my brother, whom she would refer to as The Little Dark One. It was all very easy to laugh off. Much harder when younger supposedly more “with it” people managed to bury their condescension and meanness just underneath the surface.
Wow. What a weekend. Good for you all, good for her, and good for Bubba!