We hear you...

You say you desire for racism to end, but are your words and actions helping alleviate the problem?

How is that I've been slayed for being a white mom who adopted a Haitian son? Is my love not sufficient enough, simply because of the flesh I wear?

If we are all sons and daughters of God, and we are supposed to love each other as family, why then, are you telling me that my son would be better off with someone who matches him?

You tell me I can't possibly understand, and you're right. But I can learn.

You tell me that my white privileges can't protect my son from the racism he'll encounter, and you're right. But I'll be damned if anyone thinks I'm a passive mom who would stand by and allow my son to brought down by any form of hate.

You may judge me by how his hair looks, how he dresses, or any other exterior view. But to do so is against the belief that we are to love others, based on the content of the heart. And quite frankly, although my son is surrounded by color matched people who teach him to groom himself in a manner that I'm still learning, he's eight. No matter how many times I remind him to fix his hair, put on lotion, don't dress like a slob or a preppy white boy, he's still eight. He's clean and healthy, that's an accomplishment right now.

You're right, I won't meet your expectations. I won't mother up to your standards. I won't be you. And you won't be me.

I'd venture to say my son has endured more in his few years, than many of the naysayers have in their lifespan. I am not his savior, as I've been sarcastically called. I'm not a saint, or a hero. Adopting my son doesn't make me anything more or less than a mom.

But my son surviving his infant and toddler years, makes him a warrior. Him brushing off the hateful comments of others, and encouraging me to do the same, makes him more of a saint than I'll ever be. His ability to defend what is right, and never stand by if someone is being mistreated, makes him a hero.

We see the looks. The white officer with black adopted children, sees your glares. The white mom, who's daughter had a tantrum and pulled her own perfectly braided hair into a mess, right before you came across them with your head shaking in disgust. The foster parents who's children are in those dirty clothes at the store, because the children had just arrived with only those clothes and they're there to purchase new for them; they see you whispering to who you're with.

We hear you. Trust me, we do. Our children hear you too, and they notice the looks. Even when we don't want to, because it hurts. If you think that the judgement and hatred that our society calls racism, only swings one way, you're sadly mistaken.

Thing is, none of us are experts in life. None of us are perfect. None of us know what will stop the hate in another person. But we can each work on ourselves. The best thing we can do, is love each other, learn from each other, come to understand and support each other. Throwing criticism and hateful comments, is not a path of progress.

As a white parent, to a Haitian black son, I beg of you to allow me to love without limits. Offer helpful suggestions, but keep the criticism to yourself.

My son is wise beyond his years. He's aware of the controversy, and is brave in his views. After hearing several comments, his response to me was "that's dumb, they don't know us, ignore those people." We often pray together for those who've spilled hate onto us, because even my eight year old understands that hate never wins. Love is the only way to move forward. Love conquers all.