Dear Rachel Dolezal: I’m an Adoptive Parent and I’m Entirely Plausible

Dear Rachel,

I didn’t know who you were until this week. I will sheepishly admit that I’m “not that into the news.” If it doesn’t pop into my Facebook feed, I probably don’t know about it. I know that’s a little lame, but I’m a working mom with two boys and I get pulled in lots of different directions. I’m sure you can relate.

Reading about how a white woman who identified as a black woman and spent most of her life presenting herself as something she really isn’t didn’t shock or offend me, even though it has caused quite the stir in your world.

While it’s beyond me why or how someone would be dishonest about their ethnicity in today’s world, I do understand the concept of reinventing oneself. I actually thought it was kind of a shame that the good work you accomplished through the NAACP was now overshadowed by the oh-so-shocking news that you are not really a black woman, as you have allowed the world to believe.

I was kind of in your corner.

That is, until you sat across from Matt Lauer and opened your yap about motherhood.

You talked about the good things you’ve done to advance diversity. You seemed genuinely regretful that the brouhaha over your misrepresentation had detracted from the things you’d done to bridge the gap between races.

Identifying as another race or ethnicity seems strange to me. I can’t wrap my head around that, but I was genuinely trying to be understanding and accepting as I listened to you speak, trying to justify your less-than-honest behavior because your actions resulted in stuff that was good for humanity.

And then you said this:

“[My son] Izaiah said, ‘You’re my real mom.’ And he’s in high school, and for that to be plausible, I certainly can’t be seen as white and be Izaiah’s mom.”

Say what?

Your two handsome sons—your two handsome black sons were in the studio as you were interviewed, showing their support for you.

I’d like to show you a picture of my two handsome sons:

So, they’re kind of young. If I told them today I was Chinese, they would go with it. I’m not sure if there are chemicals I could use on my hair that would make other people think I’m Asian. Save cosmetic surgery, I am pretty sure I’m stuck with the world seeing me as a white girl. Fortunately, I’m good with that.

But Rachel, your ethnicity does not define you as a mother, nor does the color of your skin.

As someone who has made it her life’s work to defend equality, are you really going to say a white woman can’t be plausible as the mother of black children? Really?

I am entirely plausible as the mother of my sons, my Asian sons. Yes, people probably see us together and wonder if I’m babysitting or if my husband is Asian. I know that the casual passerby we meet at the grocery store jumps to the quick (and accurate) conclusion that my boys didn’t enter this world via my vajayjay.

But, I am their mother.

Some people ask really freakin’ nosy questions about how my boys came to be in our family: “Are they your real kids?” “What happened to their real mom?” “Can you give them back?” “How much did they cost?” “How long did it take to adopt them?” “Can’t you get pregnant?

…and on and on.

But, I am their mother. And that is pretty damn plausible, Rachel. The color of my skin doesn’t define me as a parent. It doesn’t define how I parent.

My children see me as their mother. If some stranger at the store doesn’t see my parental relationship to these kids as plausible? Screw them.

I am their mother. I love them like crazy. I am trying to teach them to be who they are and to be kind to others. I am trying to teach them to be honest, and tolerant and that they can do anything they set out to do. I am trying to teach them all of this stuff by setting the example and by trying each and every day to be a good human.

That’s how I parent, Rachel. And that’s perfectly plausible.

I know you did what you thought was right at the time, in the moment. But you were wrong. In your quest to live your truth, you missed the parenting boat. You tried to turn being a white mom with non-white kids into something negative.

I call BS.

Rachel, I am glad the jig is up. Maybe you are, too. I know a lot of people out there will be quick to dismiss the good things you did, and that’s a shame. But—BUT—I think you need this time to regroup and step back and think about what is really important about mothering. If you want to be seen as the parent to those two young men, act like the parent. Be a grownup. Show your two strong, handsome black sons that you can live your truth. Show you can make a difference in the world without trying to pass yourself off as something you are not.

Sounds pretty plausible to me.