To my white mom:

 

You think you’ve built a bridge. With the impact of sperm and egg, twice, sweat balled on your forehead twice you pushed out the perfect duo, one white one brown, to save the world. What weight we carry on our shoulders, with you and your world walking across them.

 

Mom, I am not a bridge. My existence does not cure you of the disease, it does not connect you to the other side, I do not fill the void between black and white, Light and Darkness. You have work to do. You cannot cross the bridge.

 

The work lies in the way you talk to Dad. Do not belittle him. Do not isolate him. Do not pretend you don’t speak Spanish. Do not pretend you don’t know how to pronounce arroz con habichuelas, mangú, aquacate y ensalada. You surround him with your white friends, spewing racist rhetoric, elitist rhetoric. You capitalize off his assimilation. You married a brown man! You hardly see race!

 

But I see you. I see you shrivel when reminded of your whiteness. I notice the nod when Grandma talks about how the Irish had it just as hard. I see you smirk with white supremacy if Abuela struggles for the English word.

 

I am Latina when convenient to you. A great candidate for college! A Latina who can actually afford her education! With your grades, you won’t be rejected anywhere! And yet you divide us whenever possible. We are white white white when we go through the airport and you gladly leave Dad behind as he is “randomly” searched by TSA, leave him in the long line while we zoom through with our Irish passports. He is other in our family. I am other when you want me to be.

 

So, Mom, I am not a bridge. I do not bridge the racial divide between you and dad. I do not excuse your whiteness. I am not a bridge. You do not get to walk over me.

 

Love,
Sofia

 

A lecture for white moms of colored children:

 

I cannot begin to assume that I know all the complexities of motherhood. I am not a mother, nor do I intend to become one. I am too close to my own childhood, still too entwined with my own mother-daughter relationship to even begin thinking about switching roles. But perhaps that makes me fit to give you all a quick lecture, just on my perspective, or on the perspective of the child.

 

Perhaps you are too far removed from your childhood to understand your child. I assume when you look down at the fresh, beautiful new life you have cultivated the love you feel can be overwhelming. You have just grown a human, how could you not know what is absolutely best for them?

 

But, moms, when you look down at the black, brown, or just non-white face of the child you just grew, remember that you won’t know. That child’s existence will be fundamentally different from yours, and you and your child will be perceived differently wherever you go. Neither you nor your non-white co-parent will truly understand that kid’s experience, how they will struggle through their muddled identities, and how the world does not want to accommodate for anything between a binary.

 

It is your job, then, as mothers, to be best prepared to prepare your child for the wrath of the world. It is your job, not your child’s, not your co-parent’s, not anyone else’s, to prepare yourselves. As white mothers of non-white children, pick up a book. Attend a lecture. Read some articles. Listen to podcasts. Listen to your children.

 

Your experiences will be different. Your child will exist on a spectrum of color, one that you have actively muddled, and your whiteness will be intrinsic to their identity. So will the coloredness of their other parent. Your child will have to grapple with something you have never had to grapple with, in a more complex fashion than you can imagine.

 

Remember, white moms, that your child’s color does not excuse your whiteness. I’m sure you’ve heard by now of systemic racism, of white supremacy. Your whiteness is a privilege that your child will not have, but will have to grapple with. You will also have to grapple with it. Your child is not the medium through which you excuse your complicit benefit from a system of white supremacy. Your child is rather the medium through which you become even more introspective, even more careful, even more confident. Because your child will need your guidance, and your guidance cannot be riddle with white guilt and insecurity.

 

So, go forth moms! You can do it! Parenting is full of tasks and challenges. This is just another one that you can handle, you must handle. Good luck!

 

Writing Process:

 

I found it rather difficult to do this assignment. My mom and I have a tense relationship, so I felt anger radiating out of my letter to her. But I had to change my tone into something more optimistic and inclusive when addressing mothers in general. I think there’s a really interesting relationship that white mothers can have with their mixed children, but its definitely something I need to unpack more. I think that white mothers can often try to compensate for their whiteness through their mixed children or their non-white partners, or fail to try to understand the differences in their experiences.