We recently returned from a trip to New England. We spent most of our time there in New Hampshire, in a suburb near the city of Manchester. From Monday afternoon until Friday night, I do not recall seeing even one person of color. On Friday night, we went to a high school football game. As far as I could tell, all of the players on both (suburban) teams were white. I saw three black people in the stands.
On Sunday, we went to a couple of parks, each in larger cities. An interracial couple and their child (I presume) were at one. The other, in Manchester itself, included more non-white people, though not nearly as many as parks in California.
Jack kept saying that he wanted to move to the town we were staying in to play football for the high school. (They won their game, by the way.) I kept daydreaming about moving to a place with lower housing costs, better schools, old friends, and more baby-sitters. However, we’re in California for the foreseeable future.
Adult adoptees in transracial adoptions often advise white adoptive parents to move to a more racially diverse area. However, this is not necessarily practical, and I’m not just saying that because moving is a hassle.
I’ve moved many times in my adult life. My husband and I lived in New Hampshire for six years, and we developed quite a network of friends. My family was all out here in California, and my husband’s in Pennsylvania, so we did miss them. When I was first injured, I remember crying for my mom, even though I was in my mid-20’s. Between my health, my mother’s health, and the lack of jobs in New Hampshire, we decided to move to California to be closer to my family. Ironically, when we did that, we lost our support network. It wasn’t until late 2008/early 2009, when Jack began attending a Montessori preschool that we really started making friends here. We still don’t have the support network here that we did in New Hampshire, and we’ve lived here for six years.
If you’ve established yourself in one place, and you have friends and/or family, a job, a church, a community, then moving for the sake of diversity may not be the best choice. Unless you’re a naturally outgoing person, you have friends or family in the other location, or you’re into a mainstream religion that doubles as a social network, finding and making new friends is going to be difficult. As I believe I’ve said before, you really can’t go up to someone and say, “Hey! You’re black, and I have a black kid. Let’s be friends!” If your children are in school, then they hopefully have friends with whom they are close.
If the diversity destination is less than 100 miles away, then moving may be a better solution. If you’re actively concerned about race issues in your current location, then moving may be the best solution, regardless of what or who you leave behind.
If you don’t move, and you live in a predominantly white state, how do you provide opportunities for you and your child to meaningfully interact with other people of color? Well… that’s another post.
Photo Credit: Robyn C. 2010. All rights reserved.
Hi,
I understand your point completey, having been torn between moving from a location where all my support system was in place to one where I would be essentially starting over from scratch. I would also say that if an couple planning a transracial adoption finds themselves in the situation where moving from a place of no diversity to diversity would mean leaving their support system, then maybe they should reconsider transracial adoption. I believe that having the child in an environment where they can interact with people of their own race is of critical importance. This doesn’t just apply to a Black child in a White family, I believe this is importannce for any transracially adopted children.