I started this post a few weeks ago and haven't had the chance to really dig deep into it. This morning a friend of mine posted this link and it made me think about my nephew and his reality again. So I'm bookmarking this post for myself with a promise to get back to it later.
I remember showing off a picture of my nephew to a guy I was dating. I was so proud to be his aunt. As soon as he was born, I became that annoying person who wanted to share pictures of my love with everyone. I pulled out one of his latest pictures and exclaimed to the guy, "Isn't he cute!"
I know, I know there are a million adjectives I could use to capture his beauty but when I see him I get stuck on stupid and cute is the adjective I've constantly abused.
After agreeing that my nephew was in fact cute, he followed up with a question, "What is he?"
I looked at the guy and thought to myself, "aside from cute, what's left?"
It didn't initially hit me.
My nephews long curly locks and fair skin was a beautiful mix of his mother and father.
He was simply my cute nephew, in my eyes.
Within seconds his reality hit me.
"Oooooooooh!" I exclaimed to myself.
He wants to know the ethnicity of this newborn? Up until this point, it never occurred to me that my nephew was anything but black.
My sister had dated the same man for over 14 years and I never thought to ask what he, himself, identified as. But after that moment with, the guy, I knew I had to start asking questions. So I hit up my nephew's father, a man who stood at over 6 '8", sported a long dark, black, wavy ponytail, and fairer skin than even my fairest of friends and asked, "What is he?"