March 21, 2007
Stuck in the Middle
I actually wrote this on Sunday with the intent of posting it on Monday, but the more I thought about it the more I waffled about jumping in with my two cents. Not because I’m afraid of hate mail or anything, but because a) my plate is pretty full right now b) I really try to avoid posting opinion pieces and c) jumping in means diverting energy from some other activity like say writing or doing laundry. In the end I skipped Monday (duh obviously) and decided to let this ferment a few more days. And still, I’m not sure I’m getting this out how I want it to come out.
I’ve been reading all the Racism in Romance surveys over at Karen’s blog….and then Sunny Lyn posted something and then Kate R. posted something on her blog about it and well, it was all downhill from there. I still can’t get past the obvious (at least to ME) that where books are shelved is a book seller issue and that’s where the problem needs to be addressed (and as a side note all my bookstores are different).
In the mean time, Eva Gale (who I don’t know) posted over at Kate’s and I hope they don’t mind because I’m going to quote her here, “There is a whole generation like me coming up, and they’re going to give all sides the finger.”
God help me, I laughed. And no, not in a “damn that was fucking hysterical” way either. More like a fist in the air laugh, if you will, because I’m not the only person out here going “It’s not all black and white.” — forgive the pun.
But anyway, Sunny and I got to emailing, and she said something that made me go, “I need to blog about that,” –luckily she gave me the thumbs up on permission to use this.
someone ages ago said something to me about one of your books they’d liked…i can’t remember WHO right now, but the comment was along the lines of how much she’d enjoyed it, and then she’d visited your blog and said ‘but she’s black, isn’t she’ - and i said so? i remember her saying ‘but this is a cowboy book’ - ROFLMAO - and i said SO? she lives in TEXAS, and SO WHAT? if she’d lived in new york, she couldn’t write a cowboy romance? anyway, it was an eye-opener for both her and me.
For the record, I take NO offense at this person for saying I can’t write something becuase I’m black, but the exchange left me scratching my head in wonder. And blinking. A. Lot.
There are a lot of words I’d use to describe myself but black isn’t one of them. And frankly, neither is white, so don’t bother yelling at me or calling me a sell out or telling me I’m denying my racial heritage. I have tried to form an identity for myself that is grounded in neither race. Because I AM neither race. Because I AM stuck in the middle and honestly, it’s not always a pleasant place to be. You can’t grow up looking like no one you know and not feel – off. And that’s putting it nicely. But then, my entire life has been off—not only do I not look like my family, I don’t think like them, and I don’t act like them. I’ve always said, there are wolves and there are sheep in this world — and some of us don’t get to choose. When you have no (physical) parental identity to look to, to ground yourself in, you have to make do (and I don’t want to hear any shit about my parents loving me special cuz I’m adopted).
Let me explain for those of you late to the party. I’m adopted. My biological mother is black. My biological father is white. I was probably one of the first (legal) transracial adoptions in the state of Texas. When my parents took me home as a foster child, the social worker asked them if they thought they would get flack from their neighbors. My parents laughed. They lived in base housing which was, to say the least, very multi-cultural. When my parents went to finalize my adoption, the judge told them they couldn’t bring me. The judge was afraid there would be … problems. Because, obviously, my parents are white. So, instead, they took four albums worth of photos of me. What can I say? I was a cute kid. 
I wasn’t raised to think of myself as white or black or anything other than a human being, and I’ve done the same with my children. Did my parents do me a disservice? I don’t know. Am I doing my children a disservice? I like to think not. But I know there’s going to come a day when someone is going to say to them, “Like hell you’re black.” Or even, “Like hell you’re white!” But then, I don’t go around broadcasting my race. Oops–normally.
We are the sum total of our experiences. And again maybe I’m a fucking Pollyanna about all of this but I believe we are only as pigeon-holed as we allow others to pigeon-hole us (in any way shape or form). I say that knowing that pigeon-holing us is comforting for many people from a psychological viewpoint.
I guess this is just my very long-winded way of saying, I agree with Eva Gail.
Do I think the shape of publishing in regard to black authors will change in the next five years? No. And I’ll tell you why. Once upon a time I was active in the adoption reform movement here in Texas. I worked with a group who sought open records for adult adoptees. Politics is an ugly game and it IS a game. One prominent politician *coughshrubcough* was even rumored to have told our Governor many years ago that if our open records bill made it out of committee, he was to kill it. It took approximately seven years (hell maybe longer) for the movement to get ANY concessions–and what it got was open records for those of us who know the names on our OBC’s (that’s original birth certificate). I’d lay odds it’ll be at least another five years before we get open records for everyone. I dropped out of the movement about four years ago–about the time I started writing. I was burnt out, and heartsick, but while I was in in it, I facilitated a lot of reunions (including my own). I have a knack for finding things. My point is, change takes time but you can’t expect change to happen just because you wish it so.
And yes, I know I’m probably going to catch loads of shit for this post, but not only are we the culmination of what life throws at us, we ALL have our crosses to bear and our paths to walk carrying them. The upswing is, I think, there is a whole generation of multi-cultural children coming–I see it in my kid’s schools, I see it in the mall, at the grocery store, hello on American Idol!…and (you knew i had to get this in here) in college basketball, and some of them will be writers, and politicians, and musicians and activists and even bookstore managers.



Great post Cece, very thought provoking
Love it! How true, how true. And I always felt different too. A Brazilian brought up in an Irish/German house. I was all chocolate and chiles, and they were boiled potatoes and cabbage. I knew I was different, I just didn’t understand why, and so I just became who I was.
Great, great post.
***We are the sum total of our experiences. And again maybe I’m a fucking Pollyanna about all of this but I believe we are only as pigeon-holed as we allow others to pigeon-hole us (in any way shape or form). I say that knowing that pigeon-holing us is comforting for many people from a psychological viewpoint.***
I agree whole-heartedly. Too many people for too long have allowed themselves to be pigeon-holed. I’m just glad the next generation seems to be saying BS.
Maria thank you!
Eva I spelled your name wrong–my apologies! I’ll get that fixed.
so I just became who I was
Amen!
Jordan…Me too
I liked your post, Cece, especially the part about we are the sum total of our experiences.
My experience is as a black child of black parents. It would be easier to take your route, the race-neutral route, and maybe I could, but psychologically but I just couldn’t do it even if I could possibly get away with it. I’m too black American in outlook and identity to turn my back on my culture, no matter the drawbacks.
But I’m seeing a new sort of freedom for my multi-racial relatives and friends and I’m all for it. It’s a step forward that they are now allowed to identify with all their heritages.
I guess change is coming, but as you said, slowly.
God, I love that smilie.
This controversy was a bit strange for me. At our local Border stores, all romance books are placed together regardless of genre, race or whatever. As a matter of fact, I wish they’d divide them among romance and erotic romance. It’d make it easier for me to find my favorite books. But that’s that.
You know, I keep coming back and reading this because it resonates with me so much. Thank you so much for sharing that because I thought I was the only one that felt that way.
When you have no (physical) parental identity to look to, to ground yourself in, you have to make do (and I don’t want to hear any shit about my parents loving me special cuz I’m adopted).
My boys are both adopted. I can only hope they feel this way. My oldest son is 20 and his birth father is from the middle east. There have been times he didn’t want people to know that. But he seems to have adapted and found his own place, or his own ground so to speak. Well, as much of one as you can by 20 anyway. My younger son is 16 and still getting his sea legs, but again I think typical for his age.
I think your point is a great one. In fact I like to take it one step further and say that we’ve never kept it a secret that our sons are adopted, but it doesn’t define them either. We don’t think of them as our “adopted” sons they are our children. Period.
So why should anyone be introduced or identified by their gender, color, or ethnicity? I’m not saying I’ve never been a culprit., but I am saying (borrowing Maya Angelou’s words) “When you know better…you do better.” I know better now.
This was a great post and I’m glad you decided to share it. My thanks to KarenS for sending me over here.
Wish I could just bundle some of you up and take you with me - or follow you around with a tape recorder and camera. “chocolates and chiles” - that line was deliciousy amazing. “sum total of our experiences” - *nodding* YEP.
CeCe, you wrote a post that could have been mine. You did it more eloquently, I think, but I just have to say YES. Your life sounds very similar to mine (child of multiracial parents, adopted by a white family who got questioned about the choice, fitting in completely with no one race, etc etc).
Does it chap my butt to be called a sellout? Sure. But it doesn’t change how I view myself or how I argue. I am what I am.
And this: I believe we are only as pigeon-holed as we allow others to pigeon-hole us (in any way shape or form).
is something I’ve believed and tried to convey all along, though again, not nearly as succintly.
So count me as another voice in your camp, and thank you thank you for posting it.
I’m too black American in outlook and identity to turn my back on my culture, no matter the drawbacks.
Monica you don’t have to. I think that’s the beauty of it.
Temepst my local BN does this too!
I was all chocolate and chiles
Eva I love this as much as Sunny does! Sometimes that’s just all we can do
Eva ps you’re welcome
Rosie thanks for stopping by. I always knew too–hell I have twin cousins who are two years older than me and twin cousins who are three years old. So it definitely wasn’t hidden. What WAS hidden was the race thing. It’s harder I think to find your place, but it can also make you a strong person
And I love that Maya Angelou quote–I’m going to save that one.
(((Sunny))) you rock!
I think it is a great post and your parents are people to be proud of. Of course they got you so ten to one they are pretty proud as well.