My Biracial Partnership is Not Your Curiosity Petri Dish
The mystery of how our babies ‘will turn out’ is not enough of a reason to have them.
Sure, sometimes I catch myself wondering. What would they be like if we did have them? These children that everyone keeps remarking that we have, that we’ll change our minds and give in to create — who will they turn out to be?
But those thoughts are typically about the things that matter: would they get all of my neurotic, anxiety-ridden attributes, or the beautiful, calm, introspective ones their father is blessed with? Would we have to navigate their proclivities for difficult, somewhat violent sports like their mother, or the refined culinary tastes of their father? Would they drive us absolutely insane with their curiosities, or would they inspire awe in us with their innocent wisdom?
Sure, I wonder if we’d have the next Barack Obama, but not because he’s biracial. Because he was president.
It’s so very hostile to hear the commentary when we walk hand in hand, Cody and I. I’m used to the glances, and sometimes, downright stares we elicited even when we first began dating. There is a sort of suspicious inquisitiveness even now, that I feel — from all genders, ages, and hues. I wonder how they got together, some of the eyes seem to say. I wonder what it is about her.
