Black Friday Baby, Part One

Or Better Late Than Never, Part Two: Part One!

I can’t stand it, Y’all. I can’t stand the way children are not people, but objects to acquire and then mock. Because children never grow up and watch Daddy’s stand-up routine…and if they do, they’ll keep their mouths shut unless they’re pretending to laugh, because this is Daddy, and Daddy couldn’t really mean all the things he said, could he?

Of course he could. Just ask Pastor Boob Job Baby how side-splittingly funny it is to bring a different-race child into your white white white family. No, really, it’s a riot! Suffering? Racism? Shut up. Know what you are if you think racism exists? A RACIST THAT’S WHAT.

[deep breath] Sorry, it’s been awhile. I get worked up easier than I used to. I’m also pissed off because I can’t find a transcript of the below, which means I’m gonna have to watch it over…and over…and over again in order to do it justice. Mercifully, it’s short. It’s a clip from a side-splitting standup comedy routine entitled “Black Friday Baby.”

SO. This funny man got married, wanted a family, couldn’t make a baby, and purchased one from Kenya. Sorry, “brought home [his] very own baby” from Kenya.

(Very own? Of course it’s their very own. They have the receipt!*)

“And folks,” adds Mister Funnyman, quite emphatically, “We could not. Be. Happier!” A new dad always has to say that, doesn’t he? When you get a child that’s really Your Very Own, nobody just ASSUMES you’re happy your wife gave birth, do they? Hell no! You have to make it. Very. Clear. How. HAPPY! YOU!! ARE!!!

Of course you don’t. The only reason Funnyman Dad here says this is because he knows it is assumed by others, including his audience, that he can’t be happy with this inferior Kenyan replacement baby. Naturally, to prove how not-racist they are and how great adoption is, the audience goes wild. Woo! Yeah! What a wonderful man you are, Sir, to stoop to taking in that black African…no, wait, we don’t believe that at all. Why are we acting like we believe that?

Funny, Funny Daddy goes on to say how thrilled he is that his wife “gets to be a mommy” and that he will have a token Negro in his family for basketball jokes. No, he doesn’t say he’s glad he gets to be a daddy. He says he’s glad to have a family member who “can dunk.”

“Can dunk.”

“Can. Dunk.”

“Can dunk” means “is black,” because everyone ever born with a certain amount of melanin in his or her skin not only can, but wants to, play really good basketball. Isn’t it amazing how not-racist this man is? And funny!

After a pause to say again how happy he is with his precious black baby and how he doesn’t at all whip it for not picking enough cotton, Daddy spoils the secret for us by mentioning that he’s from Virginia. Whaat?! A man with that accent and that black baby is a white Southerner? But if he were a white Southerner, he would already have lynched this baby! That’s what white Southerners do. ALL OF THEM. Except for this one guy who is So Special he finds it acceptable to, apparently, start an entire family just to prove how racist he ain’t. Sheeeit.

I kept waiting for him to say “Now, Y’all know we could totally have got us a white one.  I mean, they wuz ovair in Keenya just thowin white babies at us. But we dodged’em, because we are Very Good People, not like the racists we expect our baby to deal with all her life.” Yes, those racists: The ones in Virginia, the ones she would never have encountered at all if it weren’t for you and your wife’s perfect white love.

ANYWAY these white people in Virginny, unlike white people anywhere else, sometimes “ask  stupid questions” when they see a white man in close proximity to a black baby. You see, all the racism in the world has been concentrated in Virginia and other Southern US states. This is why black people outside of the Southern US never have trouble with cops unless they have committed a crime, never have trouble exercising their right to vote, and, as a group, have the same amount of property, money and political power white people do.

Bullshit, Sir. The only reason you were able to purchase an African baby is that they are seen as less valuable than white ones, and you know it. The system is racist. You are racist. I am racist. If we can’t admit that, nothing will ever change. But you got the baby your wife wanted and you’re making money on this, so maybe you don’t care.

Let’s get back to stupid questions.

Funny Daddy insists a white person asked him how his baby could distinguish him from other white men. You know, the way white racists can’t tell one black man from another! I have lived my half-century-plus life in the South, and I have never heard anyone ask this question or any question like it. I cannot imagine anyone asking this question. In order to ask this question, a racist would have to assume black people act and think the way s/he does because black people are as human as s/he is, which is not traditionally how racists think. It’s a bit too self-aware–obviously so. And that’s why I suspect Daddy made it up. For laughs.

If I were his daughter, I wouldn’t find this funny at all, because Daddy, I’m not a lion and I’m sick of representing the entire continent of Africa to you and everybody else, Daddy. I’m tired.

(She’s also tired because he made his Lion King joke too way long. I hope Seth McFarlane fries in Hell.)

Then Funny Daddy points out that it’s 2017 and people still say dumb things can ya believe it!? It’s not like we put a dangerous  racist maniac in charge of our country ten minutes ago. It’s just dumb people saying dumb things, and Daddy has fun with them, because they can’t hurt Daddy. They can only make Daddy look good and get Daddy paid. (I sure hope Daddy never did a routine about how bullshit white privilege is.) But it gets worse.

It gets worse when Funny Daddy says he snaps back at people who say dumb things because they make him “feel inappropriate.”

They make his white Virginia ass. Feel inappropriate. In Virginia.

Sir, nobody can make YOU feel inappropriate in Virginia without your consent. Your child, OTOH, will always not only feel but BE inappropriate. No matter how much you yourself (o thou white angel!) do to spread the gospel of anti-racism, which you are not doing, you will never be able to keep her safe. Especially not as long as you try to do so by laughing at the predicament you put her in. I don’t think that’s funny at all, and I find it very scary that you do.

The second dumb question Funnyman Daddy says he was asked is  “When’d’ja get’er?” This question is not “dumb.” It isn’t even offensive. It’s mere curiosity. It’s nosiness, which is rude at worst. It’s only “offensive” because a supposed Wal-Mart security guard supposedly said it, supposedly while patting his gun at white Funnyman Daddy.

Funny Daddy wants us to believe his black baby turned him black and therefore made him vulnerable to police violence. This is, of course, pure bullshit. White people who adopt black babies, while they are certainly inconvenienced and may experience racial discrimination, do not become black and do not lose their white privilege.

And that is really all of this mess I can deal with in one blog post. Stay tuned for Part Two.

 

*The lovely hair that Galla wears/Is hers–who could have thought it?/She swears ’tis hers; and true she swears/For I know where she bought it! — Martial.

 

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Filed under Colonialism ROCKS!, General Ignoramitude, It Can't Be Racist. I Didn't Use the N-word Once!

Contempt, er Content Will Resume

…almost certainly both, almost certainly soon.

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The Logic of Compromised Attachment

Who else thinks this is brilliant? Who else relates so much their body reacted before their emotions and brain did?

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by Rich Uhrlaub, excerpt from ASRC post, “Wild Dogs in the Basement: The Enigmatic Male Adoptee”

 

The  Logic of Compromised Attachment

I drink the poison so the rat will die.
My bare feet run on tacks to stop the race.
I etch my deepest secrets in the sky.
I break the mirror, looking for your face.

I trust, anticipating each betrayal.
I climb, because I heard you cut the rope.
I build, and then extract each screw and nail.
Despair is that lone thing that gives me hope.

I crave affection, acting like an eel.
I wear these manacles to set slaves free.
I live in rage to show the fear I feel.
I try to be ‘most anyone, but me.

I burn the map before I hunt for treasure.
Kind accolades confirm the crowd’s disdain.
This chaos brings familiar rest and pleasure.
I hop along, when I could…

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GRACE GRACE GRACE GRACE GRACE

(Old news, but I wanted to post something.)

I wonder how many adopted girls/women have been saddled with this name? Well, here’s one more: The little girl delivered in the back of an ambulance by a fireman has been adopted by the fireman and his wife. Grace is her middle name, but they’re going to call her by it. You know, in case she ever forgets how lucky she is and asks too many questions.

“We have never hidden it from her,” Marc told “Today.” “If you ask her where she was born, she says, ‘My daddy delivered me in the back of an ambulance.’ She knows the whole story. I wanted her to know as soon as she was old enough to understand.”

Sir, that…is NOT the whole story. Her story began when her mother got pregnant, just like yours did.

His wife says they wanted more children,

“But I was pre-term with [my biological sons], so we knew that it wasn’t possible to have anymore babies.”

I do not know what that means. Can anyone explain it?

Hero Fireman added: “I don’t even think about her being adopted. She’s ours and we love her.”

And your not thinking about it (because you don’t give a fuck about her mother or where she came from) means she’ll never think about it, right? That grace god reserves for adoptive parents truly is amazing.

Why don’t they start calling all the male adoptees Lucky? It’s the same damned thing.

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Filed under AdoptoLand, Stop Saying That

Kill a Kid, Run to New Zealand

Oh look, another little boy who hurt himself to death like Max Shatto did. I don’t want to read another damned word about how people who can have their own children but “can’t” raise them are privileged over those who can afford to purchase someone else’s child, especially if they choose to feed him honey instead of taking him to a doctor, make his care a sixteen-year-old’s problem, blame him and his mother for his own death, and then have the gall to beg for funeral money before bugging out to New Zealand.

And I don’t want to read one word on this blog about how biological parents do this too. They do, and it’s horrible, but adoptive parents are being entrusted with someone else’s child, and that means they should be held to a higher standard. Obviously no parents of any ilk should be allowed to get away with this.

Seven -year-old Seth “ultimately died from an inflamed pancreas and blood disease.” His APs “had issues with going to doctors.”

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“Babies have become commodities” complains baby broker

Kinton, who founded Amazing Grace nearly 20 years ago, says licensed agencies like hers are struggling to stay in business because pregnant women are choosing to give up their babies through independent facilitators.

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Look, Lady, we all know why your business is failing: Most women want to keep their babies, and nowadays, they can. The pickings were slim when you started, and they’re slimmer now. And that’s great!

“When I first started, we were pairing 20 babies with forever families every year,” Kinton said. “Now a good year is 10.”

If adoption were really about the children this would, of course, be cause for celebration, not whining. But no: God’s “Amazing Grace” is supposed to benefit Ms. Kinton and her paying customers, not babies and their existing families.

With fewer babies to pair, agencies such as Amazing Grace have fewer families paying to complete the adoptions, which keep the agencies afloat.

The fact is, PAPs want what they want and they want it now, regardless of cost. They always have. I wondered where on earth they learned that a baby is an item to be purchased? Surely it isn’t anything private adoption agencies ever did. Surely Ms. Kinton isn’t complaining just because those facilitators are stealing her money.

She adds that adopting families are vulnerable to adoptions that may not follow all legal protocols, plus there is a danger to the pregnant woman with no guarantee of the health and wellness of the new baby’s home.

Lady, you crack me up. Nobody cares about the pregnant woman. And no woman who relinquishes has anything like a guarantee of a well and healthy home for her baby.

“We have social workers who we know have gone into these homes.”

That’s right, it’s that “one home study makes you the best parents evar” nonsense again.

“If you have a mom here and the baby is going, say, to the state of Utah, we don’t know if anyone has gone into the home.”

Isn’t it IN ter est ing that she mentioned Utah of all states? Utah, which makes it easiest for a woman to relinquish without the father’s knowledge? Pure coincidence, I’m sure. Couldn’t possibly be that Ms. Kinton loses big bucks every time one of her pregnant women absconds to Utah. Obviously, the only reason a woman would got to Utah is to deny her baby a safe home and deny Ms. Kinton’s rightful fees. Sure it is.

Ms. Kinton, you got into this business twenty years ago, which was already twenty years too late for you to be pitching this BSE bullshit. I don’t care about your business going under. I care about the women you’re complaining about having sniped out from under you because you are the one who believes babies are commodities.

Seriously, who do you think you’re fooling?

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Filed under AdoptoLand, General Ignoramitude

The very first sentence

…of this article about transracial adoption begins with the phrase “Adoption, like parenting…”

Dear people who write about adoption: STOP IT. Stop assuring us adoption is exactly like raising biological children out of one side of your mouth and saying this shit out of the other. We hear you. We see you. And adopted children who are supposed to be “helped” by this article see and hear you.

Both dads say honesty is important while raising your kids.

If you honestly don’t think adoption is parenting, , then don’t write articles about adoption. You’re not helping.

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